The Eagle and The Dragon
by Ronin201
Summary: A fighter pilot, following in his father's footsteps, goes to war while a part of his past returns. Now he must face the annals of war and hope he survives to return to the girl he loves. His younger brother, a marine, must also come face-to-face with what war entails. Contains OCs, fictional countries and weapons. All respective rights are maintained by their owners
1. Prologue: The Wraith of Francis

**Author's Note: this was written before I learned about the new Kawasaki P-1. Since it is between the Belkan and Coporate Wars, I just opted to go with the UN title for simplicity's sake.**

_Prologue: The Wrath of Francis_

_September 14, 2024_

_Over the Southwest Pacific_

The single Shimoji Maritime Defense Force P-3E Orion droned along just off the country's southernmost island. The two pilots up front sat quietly on what felt like another boring patrol. However, in the back things were just a bit more interesting.

"She's getting big." One of the radar operators in the back of the sub-hunting plane remarked. A sonar operator looked away from his screen at the display for the P-3's air radar. A massive shape drifted along to the west.

"Does HQ know about it?" the sonar man asked.

"Yeah, but it's heading away from us. It's gonna hit Cholina in maybe…three hours it seems." The radar operator replied. His colleague whistled.

"Let's hope they can handle it."

"Yeah." The radar man agreed.

The patrol plane continued on its pre-scheduled course, crew keeping up their primary duty but at the same time keeping an interested eye on the massive storm barreling at the largely rural country of Cholina…

Hurricane Francis made landfall on the east coast of the Republic of Cholina at around 8 PM local time. She'd been watched for weeks by the world as the Category Four storm brewed up over the South Pacific to the southeast of the Shimoji Islands. The South Linese government knew it was coming and issued the proper steps, but one can never do enough to fully protect themselves from a storm like Francis was.

In a matter of hours South Cholina was thrust into the spotlight as rain and wind swept across the cities and fields like an invading army. Trees were snapped like toothpicks. Streets became like canals, filled with dirty water and everything from cars to fruits to even people. Those who survived the onslaught near the coast were hit by rain with mixed results. Some simply sat and let the water pelt down onto their roofs, while others scrambled to avoid the scattered mudslides that were set off.

The disaster was so bad the UN had to come together. The representative from the stricken country brought a message asking for help. The damage wasn't the South Linese government's only problem. For years, almost since her independence from what was now North Cholina, the Front for Linese Reunification (FLR) had waged a small but painfully effective terror campaign in an attempt to force the South to ask to be once again under the North's rule. The South Linese military, viably trained and armed, had for the most part kept them at bay but with the storm diverting attention the guerillas surged at the chance. The UN, sympathetic to the fledgling government, agreed. Once again the Blue Berets were called in…


	2. Chapter 1: The Next Generation

**_Author's Note: Since we aren't fully informed how the Osean Carrier number system goes, I simply go with what I like within reason. The F-21A Thunderhawk, a fictional aircraft of my creation, is the replacement for the F-14 Tomcat. I wrote this story as if it wsa chosen over the F/A-18 Superhornet. The story's technology will be like most stories that take place in the future: interpreted mostly with today's level of stuff or things in the immediate future. As for Tex's glasses I felt it fit his character better, so sue me :P_**

_Chp. 1: The Next Generation_

_September 21, 2024_

_150 miles Northeast of the Shimoji Islands_

Lt. Eric Bradford's attention was riveted as the F-21A Thunderhawk's two GE F110D turbofans kicked into military power. The machine was minutes from launching off _OFS Excalibur's_ #2 catapult. The jet blast deflector kept the two cones of crimson flame at bay as the catapult officer, clad in yellow top and camo pants, looked down the catapult track to ensure the line of steam was clear. He then looked at the pilot in the fighter's cockpit and gave a salute, indicating everything was set. Though Eric didn't see the man due to the sun's glare on the bubble canopy, he knew things were beyond stopping when the cat officer dropped to one knee and touched the deck. He aimed the same hand down the track. The fighter lurched forward and its engines screeched like a mystic bird.

"Never gets old huh Tex?" Eric shouted to his friend, Lt. Mark Walker. The taller fighter pilot nodded

"That's why I love my job." He agreed in is farm boy's drawl. They noticed the cat officer, just as pumped up, shook a fist in excitement.

The two stood up straight and walked inside the island of the carrier, they had a briefing to attend, one they had a few times before and was already repetitive. CVN-52 was due to make a port call in the forward base for the Osean navy, NAS Shiatami, and in accordance with regulations a briefing on responsibility was to be given to every man aboard the ship. It was one of those things everyone, even the guys like CAG and the Captain, hated but still had to be done.

The two descended down and below into the hangar deck of the aircraft carrier, flight boots clanging against the metal stairs. They need up taking a short cut through the hangar deck, where several examples of CVW-9's various aircraft, manned and unmanned, strikers to electronic warriors.

"So do y'all think the President will give the UN any help with that disaster in Cholina?" Mark asked, looking to make conversation.

"Yeah but I doubt he'll need an aircraft carrier." Eric said as they weaved between a pair of F-35s.

The two entered through a door into what was known as "squadron row". Second on the left sat the two Oseans' destination: the ready room of VF-138. The two "Ronin" pilots walked inside and joined nine other pilots of the squadron.

"Hey DJ." Eric said to an African American pilot by the full name of Derek Jonesy.

"Hey Saber, ready for another boring safety brief?" the man asked.

"Yeah, but hey at least after this we make a port call in the Shimoji Islands." Eric replied, sitting down in the chair with his name on it. Mark sat in the seat next to the row, being the tallest and a football player in high school.

Eric sat back in his chair and let out a breath. This was his third cruise since leaving the Osean F-21 RAG, and all of them had been done with VF-138. Personally, he enjoyed the squadron and the pilots that made it up. Though his mom worried about his safety, as any good parent would do, she still supported what he wanted to do.

Eric looked up and saw the Squadron XO, LCDR. Kristy "Vixen" Lynn, stand up straight. Here we go Eric thought.

"Attention on deck." She ordered. The rest of the squadron did so as CDR. Richard "Boss" McGavin, the man in charge of the squadron, came walking down the center aisle. He turned, long face in its usual serious expression, and returned the salutes given to him.

"Be seated." He ordered.

"As we all know the carrier is due to make a stop in the Shimoji Islands, and in line with Navy Regs we're required to issue a safety briefing on the do's and don'ts of being on shore leave." He began. Though like the others the Commander didn't enjoy the by now repetitive event this was, he soldiered on through it.

"As with any country we make a stop in, there are people who tolerate us and those who frown at us. Remember we're professionals everyone. We learn to take shit and keep going so I don't want to have to bail someone out of Shore Patrol's custody because some Yakuza punk or something called him a name. Now if he makes a swing I'll defend you to the end of the world, but if he's just talking shit let the bastard." McGavin went on. The new rule, specific for The Shimoji, had been the result of a few stabbings of Osean personnel by a few Shimojis who were drunk.

"Going forward our superiors on the Naval Safety Board remind you to ingest alcohol with care and have a designated driver, ALWAYS." He went on, moving onto the more general subjects of safety. After that Eric and Mark retreated to the stateroom they'd been assigned.

"Leave it to the Navy to come up with spending an hour on a damned safety brief." Mark scowled as he laid out on his bunk.

"So what're your plans this time? Just mostly spending time with Sarah?" Eric asked as he sat in the room's desk chair. Mark nodded and finished kicking off his right boot.

"Yeah, I…I think I'm gonna ask her to marry me Eric. I love her that much." The tall pilot added. Eric grinned and whistled.

"About time Tex." He said in approval. Mark chuckled.

"Hey at least I've got a girl." He pointed out teasingly.

"That's low Tex even for you." He replied.

"Ah y'all know I couldn't resist, but seriously got any plans to go huntin this time in port?" Mark asked, sitting up. Eric shrugged.

"Maybe." He grinned. Eric

"So what's the ring look like?" Eric added. Mark stood up and knelt down in front of his safe. He took out a small gold ring with a red jewel in it.

"Sarah likes red, so…" he said. Eric took the piece and examined it in the light.

"Very nice, very nice indeed." Eric said.

"I need y'all to be my witness Eric." Mark asked. His friend nodded readily.

"Sure thing."

Mark put the ring back and closed the safe. The tall fighter pilot sat back on his bunk and let out a breath.

"Well glad that's settled, now we just have to wait." He drawled…

"That has to be some work of fate Misaki that your dad wanted you to come out here around the same time you volunteered for Cholina." June pointed out. Misaki looked away from the airliner window at her friend.

"A real Cinderella story right?" she sighed, not happy to discuss the subject.

Misaki Kuro looked forward and down the cabin. They were due to land in Ikatori International shortly. Misaki was happy to be so close to being free to move about, but that was only temporary. Soon she'd be in another marriage meeting, but at her father's choice.

She felt herself falling a little as the jetliner descended below the clouds. Misaki let out a soft breath and tilted her head back. Below the blue ocean was being replaced by green countryside outlined by white sand or the foam of waves hitting the shore. She'd always loved the beauty of her home country. Above the women's heads the intercom dinged to life.

"Attention passengers, we are on final approach to Inaki International Airport. At this time we ask that all tray tables and seats be put in their proper position. Flight Attendants will be coming through to collected anything you wish to dispose of." A female voice said in a calm and pleasant voice.

A metallic thunk, followed by a muffled whirring sounded beneath a few minutes later. The 767 pilot carefully bled off altitude as his machine came in closer to the ground. Misaki rested her head against the seat and stared out the window. The rolling terrain in the distance became level with her gaze. Then there was a flash of the man-made. Small gas stations and power lines on the roadside and a few old temples hidden among the trees.

"Oh it's so beautiful!" June gasped. The native Shimoji woman looked at her friend.

"Maybe if we have free time I can show you where I grew up." Misaki smiled. June nodded in eager acceptance

The airliner drifted down almost like a leaf, engines whining. A brief shudder rattled everyone a little and was almost instantly replaced by the feeling of the machine coming to a hasty stop. Misaki pressed herself against the seat and then eased up as the aircraft taxied towards the gates. Misaki sighed. Again she was home, even if it was only for a short amount of time. She hadn't been here since she'd left to go to medical school in Osea.

The nurse shuffled out with the rest of their group and gathered in the terminal near the baggage claim. Dr. Michael Horst, a Belkan man, was the senior person in charge.

"I'm glad to see we all have gathered here safely. I hope to be quick since many of you are probably jet-lagged." He began, smiling with a set of bleached white teeth. He was a healthy man, even in his early fifties.

"We have been permitted a short time to rest before the UN transport we have been slated to fly on arrives the day after tomorrow. It would come sooner but with the threat of the FLR in Cholina the UN is making security a priority." Horst went on. he spoke with a slight Belkan accent.

Misaki could almost hear her father now. Of course they'd send in soldiers first, even the UN believes in stability through the use of armed men. She pushed away the thought and refocused her attention on the doctor.

"We will meet at eight on Monday morning at the ticket counters for Air Ixiom. From there our UN liaison will take us to the transport plane. That's is all and I will allow you to get some rest. We will be roughing it, as the Oseans say, starting Monday." Horst finished with a humorous smile.

Misaki and June stayed together. Being the native speaker, Misaki hailed a cab and asked the driver to go to a hotel near Shuu train station.

"Why there Misaki?" June asked.

"You wanted to see where I grew up right? We can go there tomorrow." She smiled…

"Hey Eric check this out."

The blonde turned his head to Mark, who in turn pointed up at the TV mounted above the duty officer's desk. A reporter with a British accent was commented on the situation in South Cholina. Below her the headline read in white letters "Military forces to be deployed to humanitarian effort?".

"The Ustian government maintains its offer to provide Mirage 4000 fighter-bombers to assist the Linese and UN in keeping the FLR at bay. President John Vickers expressed concern about the move being this early in the relief effort but commended Ernst Rymus for "taking the initiative" especially with the North Linese government's constant lobbying to unite the two countries under its won flag…"

"Leave it up to the Linese to be a troll." Derek commented.

"Yeah guess they didn't want it to die out after Belka lost the position in 2011." Eric added with a chuckle. A few others rippled through the ready room.

"Speaking of which what're they packing these days?" Mark asked.

"Mail call." LCDR. Darrel Newport, the squadron intelligence officer, announced as he came through the door.

"This one's for you Cowboy." The man said as he held out a cardboard box.

"Cowboy?" Mark asked.

"That's what's written on the box." Newport said. Mark sighed. Eric glanced at the box as his friend said down. Sure enough it was written (letters now partially smeared) in Sharpie the words "To my Cowboy"

"Gotta love Sarah." Eric snickered. Mark pulled open the box and sighed with a smile. He took out a black Cowboy hat and placed it on his head, brim cocked up.

"Well…what'd y'all think partners?" he asked, making his accent sound perfectly stereotypical like Roy Rogers or Hank Williams. A round of laughs sounded.

Eric was familiar with the hat. Mark's girlfriend, A feisty blonde surfer girl by the name of Sarah Masters, had lovingly made him wear it throughout high school, adding to her pet nickname for him: Cowboy. He off and on try to avoid wearing it, but in truth didn't mind.

"I'd say that's a mighty fine ten-gallon right there partner!" Derek howled in an equally cheesy western accent.

"Anyways Joker we had a question for y'all." Mark said, going to a different subject. Newport looked at im as he sorted through the rest of the mail.

"What is the NLAF packing these days in terms of fighters?" The tallest pilot drawled, using the unofficial (and somewhat politically incorrect) moniker of the Peoples Liberation Army of Cholina Air Force. Try saying that five times fast Eric thought.

"Uh last I saw it was the J-10." He replied, doing some quick thinking.

"Oh yeah, that one that looks like a Typhoon." Eric nodded.

"Yeah, nimble little bastard, maybe even better than the Flanker." Newport commented. Eric remembered his dad writing him about the Su-27 series. The only thing that could beat it was the Super Hornet, or later the Thunderhawk.

"Why are you curious about that?" the Lieutenant Commander asked the bespectacled pilot.

"Well Ustio has thrown up the offer to send Mirages to help keep things running smoothly, and I was just curious as to what they'd be up against." Mark replied.

"My money's on the J-10 because like Joker said it's nimble. The 4000 is an old design that just got some CPR so Dassault could have something to sell to countries that can't get a fighter like the Typhoon or the Rafale." Eric explained.

"Guess that also depends n pilot skill." Mark replied.

Eric nodded. In 1995 the MiG-29 Fulcrum was one of the most agile fighters in the Belkan Air Force, but his dad had shot down several in an older and bigger F-14 Tomcat using training and the additional nerve that Navy pilots seem to posses.

"Okay that's all. daily brief is tomorrow at 0700 everyone before we get to leave." The intel officer said, turning and leaving.

"Roger that Joker." Eric called. the pilot glanced at his watch and stood up.

"See you guys at the O'Club on Shiatami." He grinned.

"Roger that." Derek hooted, stroking his short moustache.

Eric closed the door behind him. He looked forward to sitting at a barstool in about twelve hours, a cold beer in hand, and if he got lucky, a woman in the stool next to him.


	3. Chapter 2: Reunited

**_Author's Note: This story'll have a bit more drama and romance than Op Sea Dragon. You have been warned._**

_Chp. 2: Reunited_

_September 22, 2024_

_NAF Shiatami, Shimoji Republics_

The massive and complex warship (and rather large chunk of taxpayers' money) known as _OFS Excalibur_ sat inert along the pier in Shiatami Bay. With the nearby airfield only big enough to support the indigenous air wing, aircraft sat about the flight and hangar decks in a scattered fashion. Alongside her was CVN-50, the _Vincent Harling_.

"That's a sight to behold isn't it Tex?" Eric said as if he were describing some beauty of nature. The taller pilot looked at him with one raised eyebrow.

"Do y'all ask yerself if yer too into this job?" he drawled.

"Ah I did but decided not to find an answer." Eric replied.

The turned and went back into the BOQ's mess room. Eric had quickly learned that a smaller extension of sleep, even it he only got an hour or two more than he did aboard the ship, worked very well.

Inside most pilots were dressed in their standard khaki work outfits or their flight suits. The two Ronin pilots set with the rest of their squadmates. Most of the guys were talking about seeing the sights or the nightlife in the capital of Sashimi. A couple people were even joking about who would be most likely to have to run from Shore Patrol. Eric had decided to save the partying for later. He first had a few places to visit on and off base, and then his promise to Mark that he'd be his witness when he proposed to Sarah. Good thing the Navy gave its personnel a week when they made a port call.

"Hey Saber." Derek spoke up, putting an arm around his friend. He looked at him.

"Don't let me forget to hook you up tonight man, I can guarantee you'll have a good time." He assured.

"Sorry DJ, I've got things that need to be done but I'll take a rain check on it." Eric replied. He stood up.

"Alright man, but don't you bail on me." Derek said.

"Yeah yeah yeah." Eric replied with a wave of his hand.

Eric left the BOQ, placing his tan flight cap over his head as he came out the front doors. Being fall, the cloudy skies were rolling in as the rainy season slowly came. Eric wished he'd been allowed to wear something like his water-proof flight boots that he had on now when it poured in high school.

About a half hour's walk from his temporary berthing was a small park near the base's actual airfield. A few old jets stood in silence now. Eric glanced at the old machines, some so old they were reminders of the days when Navy jets had white bellies and the pilots wore bright orange flight suits. He walked towards one, an old F-14D Super Tomcat. It was marked up in the colors of VF-64, The Crusaders. Eric walked along side and looked up, placing a hand on the Osean roundel. Below the cockpit wasn't the original pilot. If it was the right wing would be gone and the canopy and ejection seats missing. Instead it was painted as it was for commemorative reasons.

CAPT. Ryan "Rocky" Bradford, CAG

1967-2010

Eric lowered his gaze at the plane's front landing gear. This was part of why he hadn't come back to the Shimoji Islands in so many years. He let out a breath, gently tapping his left foot against the front tires.

"Damn Yukes just got lucky." He muttered.

The pilot stood up straight and jammed his hands in his pockets, walking away and towards the plaque. He knew what was written on it, and in all honesty didn't want to read it again. He figured it'd be best to go elsewhere, and began walking towards the base's bus stop. How early did Miss Keiko open shop again?…

Misaki watched as June flipped through the Shimoji phrase book.

"Are you sure you don't want me to do the talking? I'm the native speaker." She pointed out, the auburn-haired woman shook her head.

"No, I'd like to at least try Misaki." She assured.

Misaki sighed and shook her head at her friend's sense of adventure. That'd been part of her reason for volunteering to go on this trip to Cholina, to see the world and make herself useful.

The taxi they had hailed from their hotel merged from Highway 3 onto the Coastal Road. The sun was still rising up into the dull blue sky. Misaki looked out at it and sighed.

In truth she was glad she was staying here only a short time. Her father hadn't given her a chance to tell him she wouldn't be here long enough for a marriage meeting before she'd come, but last night she relayed the message. Her father understood, and was actually proud she was going to help those who'd been affected by the disaster just across the Linese Sea.

"Misaki, how do you pronounce this?" June spoke up, turning the book so her friend could see. Misaki looked at the word and said it slowly in Shimoji. June repeated what she'd said.

"That's it." Misaki nodded in approval.

The taxi slowed as it left the main road and approached their destination. Misaki watched as they entered the limits of Hikura. It felt just as quiet and out of the way as it always had, but Misaki preferred it that way.

"So this is where you originally grew up?" June asked.

"Yeah for the most part it was with my auntie and mom after my parents got divorced. In all honesty it was much more fun as a little girl living near the beach instead of in a mansion." Misaki replied. June nodded.

"Our destination is the second left driver. It's the café on the right at the end of that street." Misaki instructed, motioning at an intersection. The man nodded and eased onto the smaller side street.

"Here we are." The black-haired woman said to her friend.

Misaki got out and looked at the café while June paid the driver. The Osean came around and stood next to her. Misaki led the way, pushing open the door. The place was empty.

"Auntie?" she asked.

A woman in her mid fifties with long raven hair came from behind the counter. She saw the woman and stopped.

"Misaki?" she asked, surprised. The younger woman nodded.

"Sorry I didn't call ahead, I wanted to surprise you." She explained. Keiko Nagasami embraced her niece.

"That's fine Misaki, it's always good to see you." She smiled. she let go and looked over Misaki.

"You've become a beautiful woman, what happened to my little niece?" she asked with a smile.

"Aww auntie I'm still you're little niece." She replied. The older woman glanced at June. The Osean bowed as Misaki had taught her.

"June Vance." She added. Keiko returned the gesture.

"Well how about you two sit down and get you both something to drink." The café's owner suggested. They nodded and took a seat towards the back…

Eric whistled casually to himself as he stepped off the bus. The cool September air greeted him gently. The pilot walked clear of the bus as it lurched forward and on down it's route. He looked around at what was considered his "second home".

The Osean knew exactly where he wanted to go and crossed the street. Okay take the first left he thought. He turned the corner half-way down the street and found himself at his destination. Clearing his throat he pushed open the doors. A woman serving two other customers tea looked over at him.

"Oh hello I'll be with you in a min-"

Keiko had stopped mid-sentence for some reason. Misaki, her back turned to the other customer, looked over her shoulder as the woman walked across the room. A man dressed in a dark green flight suit and black boots stood there. Misaki recognized the yellow hair and silvery blue eyes but Miss Keiko said the name first.

"Eric?" Keiko almost gasped.

"Yeah, it's me." Eric nodded at her. She smiled then embraced him.

"That uniform suits you perfectly." She said in approval. Eric chuckled and returned the gesture.

"The carrier I'm on made a stop in Shiatami so I thought I'd drop by." He said.

"Eric!" another voice cried. Keiko moved away as another woman, younger and with short dark brown hair came up.

"Misaki?" he replied, just as surprised as she was.

A wide smiled spread across Misaki's face and she squeezed him tightly. It was Misaki, but…about the only thing she'd kept was her short hair. The tomboyish girl had grown into a woman, and a lovely one at that.

"You look just the way I remember you, that's good." She smiled.

"Wish I could say the same for you." Eric said, trying to sound suave. Misaki tried to suppress a laugh, but failed horribly.

"You still suck at being intentionally romantic." She laughed. Eric shrugged.

"Meh, I try."

Misaki led Eric back towards June and motioned for him to sit. The auburn haired woman smiled pleasantly.

"June Vance." She introduced herself as. Eric stuck out a hand.

"Eric Bradford." The pilot nodded. They shook and June took a pull of her tea before going on. Keiko brought Eric a soda (knowing like all Bradford men he rarely drank coffee).

"So you're a friend of Misaki's?" she asked.

"Yeah I've known her a long time." Eric nodded. Of course we were quite a bit more than friends for most of that time they both thought.

"So what brings you back here Misaki?" Eric asked, looking left.

"Me and June are going to Cholina to help with the relief effort." She said, looking down at her drink.

"You joined the UN Medical Corps?" Eric asked, surprised. Misaki shook her head.

"We work at a hospital in Oured, and there was a volunteer opportunity. It was June's idea originally, but it sounded like a good thing to do so I came along too." Misaki said. Eric nodded.

"And you?" She added.

"Just a routine cruise, nothing special. I've heard rumors about us being sent to help in Cholina too, but they're just that: rumors." He replied, taking a drink as he finished.

"How about Mark? Did he get in?" Misaki asked. Thought it was idle conversation, it still felt very nice to be talking to Eric again.

"Same squadron as me." Eric nodded.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before June spoke up.

"I think I'll let you two catch up while I see the sights." She smiled. before Misaki could speak up June assured her friend she would be back at the hotel at an appropriate time. Misaki watched her leave and then looked at Eric.

"Interesting friend you have there." He simply observed, taking another gulp from the bottle of carbonated liquid. She sat back down.

"It's good to see you again Eric." She said, managing a smile now that they were alone.

"Same to you Misaki." Eric smiled. he sat back and scratched the back of his head.

"So what should we do?" he asked.

"Hmm?" she replied.

"Come on, I haven't gotten to see you since…well…your dad…" he shrugged at the end of the sentence. Misaki nodded, though she didn't really want to talk about that event.

"Well I don't think we'd have much time to…get things going again and…" Misaki really didn't want to have to let Eric know about her father's plans. But, she thought, it's better he knows now.

"And what?" Eric asked. Yes, it was better to tell him now. She looked at him.

"My father is arranging a marriage for me when I get back from my work in Cholina." She announced. Eric's gaze sort of riveted to her. It wasn't until a certain relative who was distracted with eavesdropping dropped a tray did they snap back to reality.

"You okay Miss Keiko?" Eric called over his shoulder, though what he probably meant was "why are you listening in on us?".

"Yes, yes I'm fine." She assured with a quick laugh.

"Well there's always the beach." Misaki suggested. That'd been a common place for them to be alone. Eric nodded.

"I'd like that." He smiled. Misaki tried to add some humor into the idea.

"Even though you've been aboard an aircraft carrier so many weeks?" she asked.

"Much different when you're cooped up with that many people and no fun." He grinned with a wink. Misaki laughed.

"I'm not sure I want to know what kind of "fun" you mean." She said.

"Either way let's go, It'll be quiet there." Eric said…

The sun peaked out from behind the clouds a little as the two arrived at the strip of sand that was equal in length to the town. They'd been there many times as teens, with friends or alone.

"So your dad wants you to get married huh?" he spoke up. Misaki sighed and stopped.

"Yes, and you can gather why." She said.

"Cause the old bastard thinks I'm a baby killer?" Eric proposed with arched eyebrows. Misaki sighed and nodded.

"I know you two have a history, but he's still my father, not an "old bastard"." The woman corrected. Eric nodded apologetically.

"Sorry."

"Does he know if I even still exist?" Eric asked. He hadn't talked to Hikaru Kuro in the same time he had Misaki.

"I don't know but he won't let his guard down. He knows you wouldn't attempt anything if I was married." She replied. He nodded in agreement.

"Listen about how you said you might be helping in Cholina…" Misaki spoke up. The pilot felt the nurse's hand wrap around his.

"…If you do, promise me right here and now you'll do everything you can to be careful." She said. Eric looked at her and felt his other hand take her's.

"Now that I know you're alive and okay I know that I don't want to be forced to marry just because of my father's dogma." She went on.

"I promise Misaki, you take care of yourself too." He replied.

Misaki let go of his hands and embraced him, jumping up and resting her chin on his shoulder. He held her close and they turned their heads towards each other and without hesitation Misaki kissed him. The same thing had happened about 13 years ago…


	4. Chapter 3: Truth To Rumors

**_Author's Note: You guys know the Ace Combat philosophy right? "Why send in SF operators when we can hit em with an airstrike!" :P And I'm hving fun with some of the futuristic weaponry too._**

_Chp. 3: Truth to Rumors_

_September 23, 2024_

_UN Forward Air Strip, South Cholina_

Again Misaki braced herself, but this time the landing wasn't as smooth in the UN-marked Emmerian C-130M Super Hercules, especially since the runway was a rather old one. The engines came to a lower speed of rotation and the machine taxied out of the way so other orbiting planes could land.

"Okay everyone you can stand up." The planes loadmaster said, hitting the "lower ramp" button. There was a loud whirring as the rear entrance to the cargo plane opened.

Misaki took her duffle bag and unbuckled herself. The medical specialists were moved out quickly so the crates of supplies they'd gone with could be moved out as well. The air felt cool and damp and the sky was a grayish blue. Despite the green climate, South Cholina got very cold in the later months of the year.

"It's so green out here." June observed.

"Yeah, hard to believe a hurricane hit." Misaki agreed, even though she knew the major damage had only been along the coast.

Misaki glanced around. About half a dozen more "Super Herks" sat on the tarmac, some being readied, some just returning and others sunbathing. As they were taken to a hangar two-man patrols of "blue helmets" walked around, professionally sporting their bullpup rifles and sub-machine guns. Further off she could see attack helicopters, known as Hinds, waiting, probably to launch support missions. It was always ironic that "peacekeepers" had that kind of firepower.

"Welcome to Camp Hope everyone." The UN liaison, a woman from Sapin known as Rivera, said in her subtle accent. She stopped and turned towards Dr. Horst.

"Doctor if your team would wait here I will find when your helicopter arrives to take you to your assigned camp." She explained. The older man moved his head slightly in acknowledgment.

Misaki watched as another patrol walked in front of the hangars. Even though she knew why they were here, it still felt a slight unnerving to see them. It made the FLR feel that much closer. It made her feel the need to speak.

"I sure hope this camp we're going to is really secure." Misaki said. Another doctor, a younger man named Ken Halon, smiled.

"It's sort of isolated and there are only troops there for security, too small to be of any military use." He assured. Misaki nodded and hoped he was right…

Chiang, a young member of the Front for Linese Reunification, watched the runway from the small hill about a quarter mile from the camp through the binoculars.

"Perfect, we are ready just as they have the most aircraft on the tarmac." He said excitedly to his fellow revolutionary, a man known as Pai.

"Yes, let's just hope the mortar teams have themselves properly adjusted." His friend agreed.

Chiang lowered his eyepieces and carefully pushed himself up. He then grabbed his AKM and carefully retreated down the slope. The weapon was considered his personal tool to fight against the government, and despite the design's age was very effective in the wooded climates against government patrols and even lightly armored vehicles.

The two would have to move quickly to report to the mortars teams in the adjacent hill. Radio communications were forbidden because the UN would most likely track them to the source quickly, and the FLR rebels would be stoped before they could act.

Pai, being a little more experienced than Chiang, knew how to move quickly through the woods. He jumped and maneuvered with ease. They came to a stream that the base had used for part of its water. A few attempts had been made to poison it in the camp's first few days of existence, but they'd failed and water was now flown in.

The two crossed quickly, lowering themselves down to their necks to stay as hidden as they could. Pai came up first and gave his friend a hand. They then went away from the camp and trudged up the slope to the mortar team.

"Sir, the UN planes are where we want them to be." Chiang said as quickly as he could, even before they exchanged salutes. The senior man, a "captain", nodded.

"Very well, you're efforts have helped us greatly." He nodded.

The man looked at the teams and nodded. The weapons were Type 22 80mm mortars. They were especially accurate since they were adjusted using GPS, movement allowed by a specialized base. The coordinates were plugged in using maps of the area for reference. As soon as they were ready, a high explosive shell was dropped down each tube and sent flying…

"Incoming!"

Misaki's head whirled towards the sound of the whistling just as one of the Hinds was covered by an eruption of flame and heat. it came apart, pieces and jagged bits tumbling in every direction. Another whistle came no more than a few seconds after, landing on another aircraft.

"Come on everybody, we need to get to shelter!" a UN trooper in combat fatigues barked.

The group was hurried out of the way as more shells came down. Misaki felt the concussions hit her weakly, but that was because she was so far from them. One hit something highly volatile, and her ears rang from the larger explosion as they were taken to a hardened shelter right behind the hangar.

The door was shut as a few more rounds peppered the area. Outside and high up one struck the control tower. Troops in their smaller shelters watched for the trajectory of the rounds or listening for the post that had the boomerang, a device that told the direction of incoming fire, to get a fix. Finally the call came.

"Fire's come from the base's northwest sector! Repeat, the northwest!"

"Try get a Hind airborne and fry those bastards!" someone else ordered, though all the machines had already been damaged or destroyed. Someone suggested firing a few rockets in that direction. One or two SMAWs were fired but with little success. Soon after the bombardment ceased.

Misaki, ears still ringing some, looked at the door of the shelter. Silence gripped the whole group inside until there was a knocking.

"It's clear!" a voice shouted from the outside.

A UN soldier came forward and unlocked the door, FAD ready in case it was a trap set by the FLR. Sure enough another UN trooper was standing there. Misaki and the others were lead outside and back into the hangar. Beyond the doors Misaki saw several wrecks now burning. Rivera came back up to Dr. Horst.

"Before the rounds hit I found out that the helicopter will be hear soon to take you and your group to the camp." She announced. Horst nodded without word and looked back at the destruction.

"Welcome to Cholina." She commented.

"Wasn't much different in Ustio." The Belkan man replied…

"So Stan really wants to go through with this?" General Jake Luther, Chief of Staff of the Osean Air Force, asked.

"Yes Jake our Commander and Chief isn't going to let this go unattended, and we both knew that from the start. We just needed justification." Army General Randy Smith, the Chairmen for the Joint Chiefs of Staff, replied. Luther grunted.

"That was a ballsy move for the FLR I have to say, it makes me wonder if any thought was given by them to the consequences." The Army General added, pushing his glasses back up his long nose.

The two entered the room, deciding not to press the subject any further. They'd seen terrorist mentality and found that such people we're very willing to fight anyone if it meant their cause would prevail.

The two sat down in the "war-room", waiting for the rest of the men called in for this meeting. A few minutes later with the appropriate people gathered, everyone stood at attention as President Stanley Allen entered.

"Be seated gentlemen." He said in his calm and commanding tone.

"Okay now as we know this situation is partially old news. The South Linese have been battling the FLR for years, and until now keeping them from becoming uncontained." The president began. Nods and soft comments of agreement.

"But about a day ago they got the cojones to shell a major UN base, am I correct Mr. Walters?" he went on, looking over at the CIA chief, George Walters. "Yes sir that was the most daring attack they have pulled since the UN first arrived on the 19th of September. Beforehand it was smalltime ambushes, snipers and bombings, but this is the first attack of its kind." He explained in a flat voice.

Allen sat back in his seat and took in the words with thought.

"Sir with all due respect, we may want to watch what we do very carefully. The North Linese are already upset the UN is in." Secretary of Foreign Affairs Elizabeth North chimed in.

"I know Lisa, but we can't just sit on our rears while the FLR get's more confident. I'm not saying we start carpet bombing their camps but we need to show that we support what the UN is trying to do." He replied.

"Now Admiral Beck, you had a suggestion?" Allen asked the head of SOCOM.

"Yes sir, one possible option is Special Forces teams launching raids against FLR camps in South Cholina. I'm sure the CIA has a nice fat file on our friends?" the former Navy SEAL said.

"We do." Walters admitted.

"But how long would it take for the Linese to allow us to? And the risk of the operation being found out?" North questioned. Her primary concern was the North Linese's reaction (specifically military intervention). Allen gave her a silencing look. North was a good woman, but she tended to be too animated sometimes.

"She does have a point sir, we may want to find a way to hit indirectly." Teresa Oleander, the Secretary of Defense, said. Allen trusted her opinion much more.

"Yes Teresa she does." He agreed.

"Sir that brings up a possibility." Walters spoke up.

"I'm all ears Walt." Allen replied. The CIA director cleared his throat.

"For some time we've been running intel ops trying to find out how the FLR gets its weapons. We've managed to understand that they come in via sea though the sources are unknown at this time. We just know that they're getting weapons from outside sources." He opened with.

"So someone is supporting the FLR from the outside?" Beck asked.

"Yes, now since the South Linese have been keeping the rebels in check we never did anything more than observe, but now…" He answered.

"Now we can act." General Smith said, his eyes lighting up a little.

"You're saying we start attacking ships that are carrying supplies to the FLR?" Allen asked Walters.

"Yes, we can do it in international waters to avoid violating Linese territory. The world can bitch all it wants and we don't have to feel guilty." The CIA man replied with a hint of a grin. The president looked at the Secretary of Foreign Affairs.

"The Shimoji government wouldn't allow us to launch something like that from our bases on THEIR soil." She answered, knowing what he wanted to ask.

"We then that settles It." a voice spoke up. Everyone turned to Admiral Marcus Snow, the Navy Chief of Staff.

"I think I have an idea of what you want to propose Snow, but I'd like to here the details." He said. The African American officer nodded and put his hands together on the table.

"The Excalibur Carrier Battle Group is making a port call in the Shimoji Islands. She can be readied to head out in less than 24 hours." He said.

"But why not the Harling if you don't mind me asking Snow." Beck asked. The man looked at him.

"The Excalibur can be readied in less than 24 hours." He replied. Allen leaned forward.

"You've got me interested now Admiral, what exactly do you propose?" he said, curiosity seeping into his voice. The former aviator and war hero got a smile on his face.

"The solution to how we strike back." he began…

_"The UN released a statement today regarding the attack on their base in South Cholina. According to reports several dozen propel were killed or wounded and severe damage has been done to UN aircraft that were operating out of the base. Several nations have condemned the attack as an act of terrorism by the FLR not only against the UN cause, but the Linese people struggling to survive in the wake of Hurricane Francis."_

"You know that British accent of hers is starting to drill a hole in my head." Derek commented.

Mark examined the tip of his pool stick and nodded.

"Get's yer attention though, ever heard that joke that people always listen to folks with that accent? Pretty sure it's true." He said as he leaned over and took aim at the cue ball.

Eric watched as the powerful country boy hit his target and sent it rolling at a cluster of balls. With the distinct clack they scattered in all directions. Unfortunately the cue ball fell into a pocket just as two solids did.

"Aww son of a bitch." He drawled in frustration.

Eric fished the object from the pocket and set it down.

"You know I honestly wonder know if those rumors about us getting in were some kind of revelations, seeing how the rebels pulled this kind of attack." The blonde said as he set down the cue ball so he could knock in the five ball.

"Like, President Allen was just waiting for a reason to grease the FLR?" Derek asked. Eric nodded.

"And to be honest I don't think I would complain. I'm a COMBAT pilot after all." Eric said. he hit the cue and got the five just to the edge. With a little silent encouragement it fell in. Eric nodded in approval.

"Well I'll hold my enthusiasm until the shit hits the fan and I can form a supported opinion." Mark commented. The two watched as Derek took his shot.

"So Saki was in Hikura same time as y'all huh?" Mark asked. Eric nodded.

"Yeah she was on her way to South Cholina so needless to say I'm a little concerned." The shorter pilot said.

"I can understand man. Don't worry I know Saki, she's a tough gal." Mark assured, sizing up his next move in the game. Eric nodded.

"Thanks Tex."

As Mark leaned over to line up stick and ball behind them the door burst open and Lt. Seth "Rattler" Loraine poked his head in

"Hey guys! CAG needs everyone in the mess hall!" he said. the three exchanged glances.

"Just come on! says it's important." He explained hurriedly.

The three left their pool game on hold and followed the man down the hall. Several other pilots, strike, electronic warfare, every man with wings in CVW-9 ,it seemed, was gathering in the same room. The four found the rest of VF-138 and waited patiently for the CAG, Captain Kirk Monroe, to show up and call the room to attention.

"Vixen, what's going on?" Eric whispered to the XO.

"Be damned if I know Saber, but I think we won't have to wonder long." She said, unlit cigarette between her fingers.

"Attention on deck!" the D-CAG, CDR. Kyle Green, barked.

The entire room stood up strait as CAG entered. The men all watched as a very tense-looking Kirk Monroe came in and looked around.

"At ease." He said. some took seats while others simply relaxed.

"I've just received orders from the Admiral that Excalibur is being order to get underway as soon as possible. I don't know why, just that we need to be ready to go. It's not being released if this may be some sort of developing combat situation or just an exercise but I'll say this now: treat it as the former. Everyone get packed cause we're gonna get hauled out to the boat pretty soon boys and girls." He went on. the man then left, just as quickly as he'd come.

"So much for proposing to Sarah tomorrow." Mark said gloomily.

"So much for the forty I wanted to make off that pool game." Derek added in the same tone.


	5. Chapter 4: Clandestine Ops

_Chp. 4: Clandestine Ops_

_September 24, 2024_

_Altaria Bay, Osea_

May Bradford quietly waited for the coffee maker to finish as she sat in front of the TV. She'd grown tired of the news about South Cholina and had defaulted to watching sitcoms. The brewing machine let off a few beeps. May stood up and turned around, walking back into the kitchen. She took the pot from its holder and poured herself some caffeinated liquid to help wake her up. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the phone had a message on it. Curious she walked over and pressed down on the play button.

"Hey mom it's about…uh three in the afternoon on my end. I'm here in Shiatami so it's probably some unholy hour there." Eric began. May was surprised. Her oldest son had said he would call when he knew she'd be awake.

"Uhm sorry about this being at that time if it is but something just came up and the ship's leaving port. I wanted to call you before I left but I hope this message will suffice. I love you mom and I'll call you when I can." He went on.

May stopped the recording and stood there. Though it sounded normal, the wife of a carrier pilot knew when something was up. She glanced back at the TV, thinking about the news broadcast.

"Looks like our first boy might be off to war Ryan…" she whispered to herself…

The carrier quietly left behind the shallow waters of Shiatami Bay, sailing through the early morning seas to meet with her escorting surface combatants already underway further out.

Eric leaned against the railing of the fantail, watching the carrier's wake slowly drift away from the screws. Somewhere behind him one of the hangar deck crewman was blasting Stevie Ray Vaughn, The Sky is Crying from what Eric could hear. It seemed very fitting in a strange way with its bluesy guitar sounds. No one knew why they were going out so quickly or where. The biggest rumor was that it was because of the attack on the UN base. Others said it was just an exercise, kept secret to keep men on their toes.

He stood up straight and tried to think of something else. He let his thoughts drift to Misaki. He was glad he'd seen her even if it was for a short time. He loved the motherly tomboy and everything about her. The only problem was her father. It wasn't that Eric hated the man, he was respectable and hard working. It was his one dogma about the military and how he saw it as a group of trained murderers.

"You're not a bad man Eric Bradford, you just made a stupid choice on what to do with your life." He muttered, quoting the man's last words to him.

He turned away from the churning waves and walked back though the hangar deck, taking care not to get in the way of maintenance crews or hit his head on a wing. There was till plenty of time as far as he knew to rest and get food in his stomach. His stomach growled, hinting which of the two he should do first.

Eric took a flight of stairs down and went through a long corridor, maneuvering past enlisted sailors going about their jobs. The dirty shirt wardroom, used for normal occasions, was empty for the most part. He took a seat alone and bowed his head to pray. He needed strength right now. The young pilot had always thought he'd be told he was going to war, but was he. Maybe the group would just flex its muscle at the FLR and get them to back down. Eric sighed and raised his head to eat. The warm food tasted good (with the exception of the aftertaste that the UHT milk had).

He looked around the room at the pictures hung on the wall. Some where modern but most were of vintage planes: F-4s, A-6s, F-14s, even ancient F6Fs and TBMs. Then there was the ship's crest explaining its namesake. It was interesting that a Belkan super weapon was the ship's namesake (especially since Ustian pilots technically destroyed the thing) but it was an important part of Osean (and Bradford) history.

Eric finished off his food and traveled to the stateroom. Mark was their, sitting at the desk with his face looking down at a piece of paper.

"Hey." Eric said as he poked his head in.

"Evening." His friend replied. Eric took off his flight boots and grabbed the edge of the top bunk.

"So how did Sarah take it?" the blonde asked as he hoisted himself up into his bunk, keeping his flight suit on.

"She's worried Saber, kept asking why I had to go, started crying, saying it wasn't fair. Best I could do was tell her I love her and console her." He sighed. Mark was the kind of person who didn't like making girls cry (intentionally or otherwise).

"Listen I know it's hard for you two, but at least she cares about you Mark. I'll make sure you get to see here again." Eric said, hoping to lift his friend's spirits. Mark turned around in the office chair and looked up at him.

"Thanks, I appreciate It." he smiled.

"No problem man, now I'm gonna get whatever sleep I can before we have to do what Oured wants us to." Eric said as he stretched out and closed his eyes…

The E-8D J-STARS cruised along over the ocean at 9000 feet, it's partner plane about sixty miles to the northeast. Normally a craft used for battlefield surveillance, the D model was designed to also perform Electronic Intelligence (ELINT) missions.

In the front seat the four crew dedicated to keeping the plane aloft while the "spooks" in the back did their job sat without a word. It'd been a long trip from Hunter AFB to Kaisato AFB in the Shimoji Islands. Since the men who flew these machines were all in possession of top-secret clearance they knew what they were looking for.

In the back the 18 crewmen on duty tirelessly monitored their consoles, listening and watching the area around them. The shipping lanes in the south Pacific were always busy so sorting out the radio transmissions and the different languages was a rather time-consuming task, but it was reduced a little by the fact that they'd been briefed on the specific area to look.

One controller listened to a pair of ships in unusually close proximity to each other. His fluency in Slavic languages was coming in handed as he recorded what was said.

"Maintain the spacing, we don't want to risk collision." An Estovakian accent said.

"Roger." Another, this one different, replied.

The Osean knew he had to be patient. With all the snooping equipment these days, the bad guys were much more cautious with what they said.

"We may need to move further south to avoid the storm, the risk of damage to the shipment would be one I wouldn't like to take." The Estovakian, probably the man in charge, said.

the OAF airman grinned to himself. Something valuable perhaps. Already he was beginning to gather the evidence against these two ships.

1. They were close to each other

2. One man seemed to be a subordinate to the other

3. The cargo they had was apparently valuable

"Sir." He said to the man in charge over his boom mike.

"What is it Harris?" the Major in charge of the intel gatherers onboard asked.

"I think we might have a lead, suggest we get a Global Hawk on it." He replied.

"Are you sure?" the Major asked.

"Certain but the only way to know for sure is if we can get a close look." He replied. The man nodded.

Deciding it was worth pursuing a Global Hawk UAV (one of four that'd come along with the two J-STARS) was launched from Kaisato. It was directed to fly towards the two ships at medium altitude. Inside each J-STAR a live video feed was transmitted to the cabins, showing what the Hawk saw. It switched to infrared and carefully skimmed above the clouds, well below commercial airline routes.

"Okay she's coming in on the suspect vessels." The man watching the screen reported.

In the dark it was doubtful that the unmanned craft would be seen by the vessels, and even then they might be hesitant to shoot at the machine and risking exposing themselves. The Major watched the camera as the Hawk came in for a pass.

"There." He said, pointing at several containers.

Upon closer examination, he could see crates with metal objects in them. The major pushed his mike close to his mouth.

"Kilo-Sierra this is Watchmen 1, we've got a target. Relay to Sword." He radioed…

Eric and Mark entered the ready room with the other pilots. Already Commander McGavin was in the room, waiting for all his subordinates to enter. The two came to attention as they reached their seats and waited for the CO to say something.

"Alright everyone be seated." He ordered. behind them the door was closed and locked. McGavin let out a long breath and drew in another of the same length before he began.

"Well I can assume many of us wonder why we have been pulled away from our R&R so quickly and without reason. But now we get to know exactly why that's happened." He announced. Glances and murmurs were exchanged.

"Lieutenant Dart, the projector." The senior pilot ordered. Lt. (j.g.) Chris Dart nodded and hit a switch next to him. The lights dimmed and the projector hanging overhead came on, bathing the screen it was aimed at in blue light.

"In response to the attack on the UN base in South Cholina, President Allen has authorized retaliatory strikes on ships confirmed to be carrying supplies for the FLR. We do not know how many strikes Oured plans to carry out, but nonetheless this is considered clandestine everyone, which means we only talk about it aboard this carrier." He went on.

A 3-D map of the waters northeast of the carrier's position came up. Two red dots appeared and when zoomed in on turned into computerized models of freight ships.

"We'll be flying top cover for an F-35 strike against this small convoy that is ferrying arms to support the FLR. Now we'll be doing so because it's unknown if some effort will be made to protect the ships." He explained.

"Both ship are under Leasathan flags but as this images show they appear to have several caches of arms aboard." McGavin said as thermal images came up.

"Our ROE is as follows: you are not authorized to fire on any radar contacts unless fired at first or cleared to do so by the mission AWACS." He made very clear. The projector came off and the light on.

"Your position for this hop has been written up on the flight schedule." He finished. With a salute from his pilots (returned by the man) McGavin left.

Eric glanced at the schedule. Sure enough his name was there, along with the word "TarCAP" next to his plane's modex number and weapons loadout.

"Well, let's do this." Mark said with a steely look, spotting his name too.

The two stood up and walked through the hatch to the lockers with the four other pilots in the flight.

Vixen was the flight lead. She gave a bit more informal briefing to her fellow "Ronin".

"Okay we'll keep a 30 mile space between the F-35s and us so we can get any bogeys far out. Our only probably threat is the PLACAF." She said, pulling on her G-suit as she spoke.

"Maybe we'll get to take on those J-10s they've got." Mark observed. Lynn looked at him.

"Maybe Tex, but no shooting unless we get the okay. Now Snow…" She said, looking at LCDR. Luke Little.

"…You'll be with me. Saber and Tex your element Two and Crash and Ski are element three." She went on. Eric looked at Lt. (j.g.) Nick Malloy and LCDR. Aaron Ruluski.

"Any questions or smart-ass remarks?" she added. A few smirks in reply, but no one was as good at rib-poking as Kristen Lynn.

"Okay let's do this, gear up and man your jet." She ordered.

Mark and Eric punched in the combinations on their electronic locks and opened up their lockers. Eric took out his g-suit and slid his feet through the leg straps. He pulled it up and over his shoulders with it secured to him, he took out his survival vest, pistol belt and HGU-55. the belt went under the G-suit to keep it secure and the survival vest over all that. It was all that gear that sometimes wish he was a little beefier (seeing as Mark always had little trouble with his gear)

"Okay call it." Mark said as he finished putting in his contacts and pulled out an Osean quarter dollar.

"Heads." Eric said as the coin was tossed up. Mark caught it and slapped it down on his forearm.

"Sorry man." He said as he showed the tails side, meaning Eric had the trailing position. Eric frowned but nodded in acceptance of his position.

The pilots then walked to the armory to receive their sidearms. Eric preferred a Sauer SiG 9mm while Mark preferred a family heirloom: a Colt Python revolver. After receiving their weapons and oxygen masks, the six pilots waddled out a hatch and down a short corridor to a flight of stairs. Eric put his helmet, colored yellow with black lightning bolts, on his head and followed Mark up and into the assault of engines whining.

The six F-21s sat on the starboard side of the deck near catapults #3 and #4. He found his, Ronin 208, and began his inspection of the plane. The plane captain, Jeff Willard, was back by the two engine exhausts.

"Morning sir!" he shouted over the other noises.

"Morning Will, she ready?!" Eric replied. The young red-haired man nodded confidentially.

"Just bring her back in one piece like you always do sir!" he requested. Eric nodded.

He went about inspecting the multi-million dollar F-21 Thunderhawk. He would be carrying four AIM-9M (Mod 2) Sidewinders and four AIM-120E AMRAAMs (Advanced Medium-Range Air-to-Air Missile), or Slammers as they were more often called. The plane itself also got a good dose of attention.

"Okay…nothing sticking out or loose…engines are clear…let's do this." He said to himself as he finished.

Eric walked forward and went up the boarding ladder. One of the crew lowered himself from the other side and Eric sat down in the cockpit, pulling his O2 mask over his face. With the canopy closing he began to warm up the jet. Next to him a tractor fed warm air into the turbines and soon the engines were alive. The crew cleared the F-21 and a plane director clad in camo pants and yellow top beckoned the aviator forward. Eric released the wheel brakes and followed. on the other side of the deck sat the four F-35s that would hit the ships, wings heavy with weapons. The Thunderhawks would launch first since they were the fighters.

Mark and Eric were directed towards the #2 catapult on the bow. Standing over the line of steam was another yellow shirt, a catapult officer. He, like the director, beckoned Eric's fighter forward and into position. Once where he needed to be and the front gear compressed, Eric let the cat crew do their thing. He simply acknowledged the cat officers hand signals and when everything was clear, moved all his control surfaces. The office nodded that they were working smoothly and looked down the track as Eric went to full power. Eric let out a breath and sort of wished he'd gotten a picture from Misaki to put in the cockpit. Too late now…

The cat officer saw that everything was ready and looked at Eric. Now it was in his hands. Eric trusted everything was set right, and with a breath saluted the cat officer. The man returned it and dropped to a knee. The pilot looked forward and pressed his head against the seat. Here it comes he thought.

With a jolt the #2 catapult of OFS Excalibur fired and sent the warplane into the early morning sky. Eric Bradford was unofficially at war.


	6. Chapter 5: Dawn Patrol

**_Author's Note: The Scrambler Idea came from Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon: Advance Warfighter_**

_Chp. 5: Dawn Patrol_

_September 25, 2024_

_OFS Excalibur_

"Good shot." Eric mumbled as he aimed the plane's nose up.

He quickly scanned the panels as he stored gear and adjusted flaps. Nothing red, nothing beeping, nothing wrong he thought. The pilot banked left and cleared the pattern for his fellow pilots. He flew around and past the SH-62B Sea Scout on plane guard duty and made a 180 to come back around again.

The pilot watched as Mark's F-21 launched down the catapult track. He came by the carrier's port side, sliding over and into a trailing position as his wingman climbed for altitude. The pilot glanced over his shoulder and made a hand-signal.

"Scramblers on."

Eric reached down and activated the E-241 Radio Encryption System on the Thunderhawk, known commonly as a "scrambler" because it let pilots communicate in bad weather or at night (since hand signals would be hard to see at that time), but pilots still liked to use it because they could talk without fear of being tracked or being listened in on.

"Ronin Flight, form up." Vixen ordered.

The six fighters got into a V formation and waited for the F-35s to get airborne. Also up for the mission was a pair of E/A-18G Growlers and a single

E-12B Pelican AWACS. The JSFs were gotten up as quickly as the four cats could launch them so the convoy would have as little chance as possible to escape.

"Coliseum Flight is airborne." The leader of the VFA-149 "Gladiator" Lightnings reported.

"Roger, Switchboard to all flights airborne for "Corral", you're signal is Buster, I say again your signal is Buster. Wrangle the Cattle." CAG, sitting aboard the E-12, ordered.

"Ronin copies all." Vixen replied.

"Coliseum copies all." Coliseum 303, the lead strike bird, added right after.

Eric looked to the right and kept his plane near Mark's as they headed northeast towards the ships. The other pilots dark blue helmet, sporting its large white stars, was barely visible in the early morning light. The blonde leveled out and looked forward.

"Corral this is Watchmen 1, gimme a SITREP." A voice said over the radio. CAG did the talking.

"Corral is airborne and proceeding on course, nothing to report." He replied.

"Roger, we're maintaining visual ID on Cattle. Maintaining course and speed." The other voice said.

"Roger, okay Ronin Flight push it and get on top of the targets." CAG ordered.

"Aye Aye CAG, okay Ronin flight punch tanks and get moving." Lynn said.

Eric reached down and let the centerline go free. Almost at the same time he went to the weapons panel and flipped up the master arm. For now all he had to do was keep his plane aloft. Until they reached the convoy and any chances of shot at came to mind (pending the ships had any kind of defense). He switched the radar to ground mode to get a bearing on the ships. Sure enough the APG-74 eyes picked up ships.

"Switchboard this is Ronin 208, I've got radar contact at 015, thirty miles out." He reported.

"Roger 208, that's our target. Be advised we've got two more small contacts on scopes. Moving towards Cattle at high speed, going on heading 090." The E-12 replied, voice now a radar controller's.

Eric glanced west. The nearest land was North Cholina, but it was possible the small boats might be running a deception course he thought. He glanced once more at Mark's jet and then saw black shapes below highlighted by the rising sun.

"Visual on Cattle." Tex called.

"Roger that, we're gonna send our Global Hawk towards those fast moving contacts and try and get an idea on what they want." Watchmen 1 said. must be an AF recon bird or something The tall fighter pilot mused. He looked back over his shoulder at Eric.

"Y'all okay Saber?" he asked.

"Yeah I'm fine, nothing bad yet." Eric replied.

The two pilots tilted their planes right as the CAP spread out. As luck would have it Eric and Mark flew right above the two ships. Nothing came up. No tracers. No RWR alerts. Just silence.

"We sure we've got the right boats CAG?" Mark asked.

"What's wrong Ronin 203?" CAPT Monroe replied.

"I ain't seeing nothing. No shooting or SAMs getting thrown up." Mark replied. Eric looked back at the ships. Maybe the Growlers' jamming gear was overkill on any SAMs that may be hidden among the crates.

"Yeah I don't see anything either…wait!" he called. Eric came around and looked at the lead ship's wake. It was much more visible than the others.

"Okay lead ship's increasing speed! I repeat, the lead ship's picking up the pace. I'd say that means they get the feeling that they've been found out!" he reported.

"Roger that Ronin 208, Coliseum Flight you have a green light, I repeat, green light." The radar controller ordered.

LCDR. Timothy Vickers, pilot of Coliseum 303, looked down at his weapons panel when the AWACS gave the go ahead. Each F-35 in the flight carried two AGM-84K SLAM-ER (Stand-off Land Attack Missile, Expanded Response) Anti-ship missiles in their internal bays, done so to help preserve stealth. The weapons officer had voiced a little concern (probably shared by the captain too) about using such weapons against cargo ships, but they had the biggest punch and unlike a bomb, standoff capability.

"303 to flight, assume line formation and pick a target, try to fire at near max range." He ordered.

The formation swung forward into one line. Vickers had already activated his radar and was waiting for contact. He would need to open the bay so that the SLAM's seeker head would be able to get a nice view of its target, but only briefly he assured himself. Plus one of the fighter pilots had reported no tracers or radar tracking. Even more reason to ease up and just concentrate.

He looked out towards the horizon. His HMD shifted with his eyes and head. He enjoyed the device (especially since fighters didn't have the luxury because they still trained to get on the bad guy's tail). He armed his weapons and below the two bays folded open, revealing the two AGMs.

On his weapons panel the display switched to the right SLAM's infrared camera. Two pairs of lines formed a small box around a large ship, indicating were it would hit. Vickers looked up and sucked in a fresh breath of oxygen. This was his first experience firing in anger.

"Coliseum 303, Rifle 1!" he shouted, pressing the weapon release on the control stick.

The SLAM was released and fell like a lead weight for a second before its motor ignited. He closed the bays and looked over as the two F-35s on his left, Coliseum 312 and 307 fired. He looked forward and pulled back on the stick, quietly wishing the Global Hawk had been kept on station to record the hits…

The four SLAMs dropped to a mere 100 feet above the waves. Inside them the guidance systems stared down the hulls of the two cargo ships. They were programmed to hit the targets, being guided by heat coming from the target, like the smaller AIM-9 Sidewinder. Their solid motor rockets pushed them along at mile-a-minute rates towards the seemingly defenseless ships. As they close in, a few guards along the rails, alerted by the CAP's fly-by, saw the weapons but that didn't matter. Some just stared back while one or two vainly attempted to fire their assault rifles. Then before they could think again the weapons reached the end of their journeys…

"Sheeit, they nailed em." Mark commented as the fighters circled in pairs north of the ships.

"That's an understatement Tex." Little added.

Eric watched as two flashes burst into existence on the ships port sides. They seemed small from 9000 feet, but he knew that they were anything but. He felt himself bite his lower lip. He hadn't realized in the first few seconds that human lives were being taken right in front of him. It's war he thought in reply. The pilot made a U-turn and headed back north.

"All call signs be advised, we have a VID on those fast movers, look like a pair of speed boats." Watchmen spoke up.

"Roger, anything suspicious?" CAG asked in reply.

"Negative, we're gonna make a lower pass and see if they react." The Air Force plane replied.

"Okay Ronin flight, let's collapse back on Coliseum Flight and go home, they're serving Sirloin tonight in the ward room." Lynn spoke up.

"Roger that Vixen!" Mark spoke up excitedly. Chuckles in reply at Mark's fondness for the cut.

"Tracers, tracers! 14.5mm coming off the lead guy!" a voice called out. Eric's head looked back east as they flew over the now doomed cargo ships.

"The Hawk's been hit! Controls are not responding!" Watchmen 1 went on. looks like the speed boats had gotten smart.

"Watchmen 1 here, looks like they greased our Global Hawk." Came a more calm reply. Eric gulped.

"Switchboard this is Coliseum flight, request permission to return fire." The lead F-35 spoke up.

"Negative on that. Ronin, engage and sink hostile surface contacts with 20mm." CAG replied. Another and harder gulp.

"Roger that. Crash, Ski, you two get the JSFs home. Saber, Tex you've got the honors, we'll keep an eye out in case more come." Lynn said.

"Roger that Vixen, okay Saber drop back and let me have some space." Mark said as he banked right and descended.

"Roger." Eric said as he did the same.

The two F-21s dropped to around 2000 feet. Eric switched to his M61A2 cannon, housed on the front left side of the plane (like it had been in the F-14) and looked at the electronic gunsight, or pipper. His first victory and he got to make it with a gun he thought with a small smile.

"Ronin be advised we've lost the Hawk and cannot maintain visual on the surface contacts. Switchboard reports they're maintaining 090 and spreading out. They might be trying to get to the ships." Watchmen said.

"Ronin 204 roger." Mark replied.

Eric and Mark crossed paths with Vixen and Little, who would be making a long circle around the boats in case anything else came into range. Mark led Eric down to 1000 feet and they flew north of the ships. With two miles between the ships and the Oseans Mark banked left and broke off.

"Tex is in hot." he drawled.

Eric looked out towards the speed boats and then forward. he turned the stick left and followed after Tex. His g-suit inflated to keep the forces now pressing on him at bay.

"Saber is in hot." He radioed with a grunt.

The nose swung towards the boats. Ahead Mark was already coming in low and fast.

"VID on hostiles." Mark called.

"Smoke em Tex." Eric commented.

"Roger that." The beefy Osean replied with a grin.

Eric saw tracers come of the boat Mark was locked onto. He saw tracers began to flow from the gun's barrel. Eric looked at the other boat as it turned away from him. with a gentle tug he pointed the nose (and the gun) ahead of the target. The trigger came back with a move of his thumb and six barrels spun up inside the Thunderhawk. Suddenly a flash went off from the rear of the ship. Thinking it was a missile Eric let go of the trigger and pulled violently back on the stick.

"Shit!" he exclaimed under his breath.

The projectile flashed under him and kept going. He looked at it in his rear view mirrors. it wasn't a SAM or else he would've heard the ECM start to beep. Did they just fire an RPG at me? He thought. He flew past the ship and saw she was dead in the water and burning. Eric felt a taste of satisfaction.

"Saber's off." He called.

"Tex is off." Mark said a few seconds later.

"Roger that, nice shooting boys." Vixen replied in approval. She and Little came down and joined up with the two other F-21s. they climbed to 900 feet again and began flying south towards home.

"Switchboard this is Ronin Flight, both small contacts are hit and burning." Vixen replied.

"Roger that Ronin, Switchboard copies all. nice shooting." The controller replied. CAG came back on.

"All call signs this is Switchboard, Cattle have been Corralled, return to the boat." He said in finality.


	7. Chapter 6: The Calm Before

_Chp. 6: The Calm Before…_

_September 26, 2024_

_Camp Hill, Southwest Osea_

"Heeeeeyy Army!" The Platoon Sergeant bellowed.

"HEEEEEYY ARMY!" The men of 1st Platoon, Bravo Company, 2nd Regiment, Osean 1st Marine Expeditionary Force repeated as loudly as they could.

"The hell are you doing?" Staff Sergeant Aaron Benedict went on in cadence.

"THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

"Get off your tanks and run with me." Benedict continued.

"Get off your tanks and run with me!" Corporal James Bradford replied with the rest of his squad as they jogged along the track.

"We are Marine infantry." Came the final part of the ditty.

"WE ARE MARINE INFANTRY!" The men sang. The sergeant slowed and looked at his men.

"Attention!" he barked.

The men slowed and began to march at the standard pace. James could hear a few soft pants and each man's PT shirt collar was dark with sweat. But you weren't a Marine because you were soft.

"Platoon, halt!" Benedict ordered sharply. They came to a stop and he walked up in front of them.

"Okay fall out and be back at the barracks by 0800. Remember today we have room clearing exercises." The senior NCO barked.

The marines broke up and moved briskly across the field towards the parking lot. James dragged the back of his left hand across his forehead, feeling the layer of sweat switching were it rested as he did so.

"Pain is temporary Brad." Lance Corporal Jose Martinas said with a brief chuckle.

"Yeah, and pride's forever." He replied with a grin.

James nodded and flicked some sweat off his short brown hair and let out a breath. He let his mind amble about with a little time before he had to be working again. He wondered what his older brother was up to…

"Why didn't the Admiral have us waste em with SLAMs?" Mark asked as the six pilots watched Mark and Eric's gun camera footage of their strafing runs.

"A million dollar weapon isn't exactly a good trade for a little gunboat." Snow, being the squadron Weapons Officer, answered. Mark grunted in understanding.

"Besides, you guys can maneuver." Lynn added, stubbing out her cigarette. Mark's eyes averted to the Osean flag tattooed on his left arm, a little embarrassed he'd brought it up.

"Looks like simple speed boats with some extras." Ruluski commented, pausing the video from Eric's plane and tracing the shape among the 20mm hits with a finger.

"FLR?" Eric suggested.

"Maybe, they might've been some sort of escort for the freighters and when we jumped the convoy they got the cojones to try and grease us." Lynn suggested.

"Well they got that AF Hawk." Eric commented. Nods and grunts in reply.

McGavin stopped the disc as Eric pulled off target and looked at his subordinates who'd flown the sortie.

"Okay you six will all be taken to intel where you'll write a report on your own experiences. Again remember the nature of this sortie and that this isn't exactly something to write home about." He spoke up.

"Yes sir." The six pilots replied in a disciplined manner.

McGavin dismissed them and the six were taken to CVW-9's intel department. Each pilot was handed a piece of paper and told to write down their experiences during the flight. After that they were released as if nothing had happened.

"I thought the clandestine stuff was for SOCOM." Mark commented to his friend as they walked.

"Yeah no kidding, how do you think our friends in the FLR'll react?" Eric replied.

"If they have two brains in their heads they'll be quiet. They should know making a fuss about it will expose the fact that weapons are coming in from outside sources." Mark said.

"Yeah, then we get to pull more raids." Eric added, not completely discontent with the thought of putting his training to the test again. But then again no good warrior ever seeks battle.

"They'll probably just let it go." Eric said, getting back to the subject of the FLR's reaction…

"Today the FLR released another threat saying that it would continue to attack UN forces unless they began to withdraw from the country. UN spokesperson Keith DeVenur condemned the FLR's audacity to say so as many of their countrymen starve and suffer in the aftermath of Hurricane Francis. No comments from the North Linese government at this time. However the president has announced that he has offered the help of the carrier battle group Excalibur to possibly suppress the rebels near UN bases."

Misaki quietly wiped the alcohol across the young villager's arm, only listening to a few words here and there about the situation around them. But in the little village Of Shun-Pai-Lang the outside world rarely got any attention. Misaki took the roll of bandages and covered the wound.

"There we are." She said in a motherly tone, taking a small piece of candy and giving it to the child. The young girl's tan face gave a smile to the nurse and she trotted off obediently, treat clutched in her hand.

"It must be so nice to be young." June added. Misaki nodded.

"Nothing to worry about except losing your favorite toy." The Shimoji woman added with a smile.

Misaki stretched her legs, having been seated inside the tent for several hours. The villagers had been very grateful for the UN's help. Though they were too far inland to be directly affected by the hurricane, the rains that scattered all over the country from the storm had caused heavy rains, more so than usual, and that had its own result of flooding.

"So since we've gotta few minutes I've been wanting to ask something." June said as the last patient left the tent.

"What's that June?" Misaki asked, pulling the rubber gloves off her hands.

"That pilot, you knew him?" the Osean woman asked. Misaki sighed and nodded.

"Yes, his name is Eric Bradford. I've known him since high school." She replied, though it wasn't really a subject she liked to discuss nowadays.

"You seemed pretty happy to see him you know, was he that special guy in high school?" June asked teasingly.

"Yes, he was June." She said with another sigh.

"Oh this I'd like to hear." Another nurse, Mina Huntington spoke.

"Oh please, this isn't some gossip group in high school. I'm not going to

entertain you with my personal life." She replied firmly.

"We just wanted to know what he's like." Mina insisted.

"Yeah come on every time we go drinking you never talk to a single man which means he's important to you." June pointed out. Misaki rolled her eyes.

"Fine if you must know we're in a relationship for a long time. He was living on a base in the Islands and moved off base after his father died." She began. The two Oseans quieted and listened.

"At first I thought he was cocky and too loud, but he's really a nice guy." She went on.

"Then why did you stop seeing him? It sounds like you really loved him." Mina pointed out. She sighed and looked at him.

"My father…he hates soldiers…" she sighed.

"…And Eric wanted to be a soldier, so my father forced things to end." She added sadly. It became a little too much for her. Misaki stood up and left the tent.

"I'm going to get something to drink." She announced.

Misaki walked away from the tents towards the village's well. Around her she watched the villagers go about their business, like nothing else existed outside this area. The settlement was placed near old Buddhist ruins (once part of the place). Other than that the nearest civilization was Hachewon, 72 miles southwest. Although, she remembered, maybe only 40 miles away was the border between the two Cholinas. That thought sent a chill up the short-haired woman's spine.

"Ah Miss Kuro, I hope things are going well at the medical tent." A familiar accented voice said. She looked at Dr. Horst.

"Oh, yes Doctor everything's fine. I've just come to get some water" She assured. The older man nodded and tipped the bucket that was tied to the rope's well.

"How are you getting along after what happened at the airfield?" the Belkan asked as he handed her the jug. She took a drink before talking.

"Well enough, I mean I'm not sure if my brain has fully understood what's happened." Misaki said.

"That is understandable, also because you did not see much of what happened. Be grateful for that Misaki." He explained.

"You sound more like a psychologist." She pointed out.

"I speak from experience; I was a soldier during the Belkan War in 1995 you know." He replied. She handed back the jug so he could take a drink.

"It takes time to really understood what happens in a situation like that, so don't be surprised if the shock comes later." He advised. Misaki nodded and took another drink, hoping she'd never have to experience what he had…

The taxi driver carefully navigated the rainy streets of the capital of South Cholina: Harawan. The wipers kept the light drops at bay. At least it's better than earlier today he thought. That was more than okay for him, but he probably wasn't the most relieved. In the back his two passengers sat in anticipation. It wouldn't be much father now he thought, though neither could hear what was said in his brain.

The driver slowed and turned left down another street. Things were going to be very fast in the next period of time. He saw the first man reach down to his feet and the clattering of metal. Two AEK 971s glinted in the early night. The man ignored the weapons and simply kept his small car on the road. His foot's muscles prepared to press down the accelerator.

"For our comrades on the sea." One muttered.

Just down the road Private First Class Seth O'Malley stood at his post just outside the Osean embassy, dressed smartly in his MARPATs and pistol belt. Corporal Harrah's late again he thought with a frown. The guy was a slacker and O'Brien doubted he'd make it past the rank he was right now.

The marine heard an engine suddenly rev up to his right. The Marine Embassy guard looked down the street to see a taxi coming fast down the road. Before he could fully understand what was going on the sound of gunfire shook his ears. Suddenly the car was perpendicular to him. Suddenly his stomach felt like it collapsed and almost like he was being folded in half. The firing continued to rattle along even as O'Brien lay in a pool of his own blood, a small cluster of holes along his torso. He let out confused gurgles as a few more marines on the roof fired down at the fleeing car, but it was long gone. The FLR had made its next move, and though only known to a few, its response to the Excalibur's interference on its activities.


	8. Chapter 7: Third Party

_Chp. 7: Third Party_

_September 27, 2024_

_Oured, Osea_

"Do you think they sniffed us out?" President Allen asked.

"Doubt it sir, I think they just took a shot in the target and hit the bull's eye." Dr. Walters replied.

"Still, bastards got gall to shot at the embassy." The president said. General Smith nodded in agreement.

"They might be trying to get us to retaliate to justify more attacks." He added.

"Damn, didn't think about that Randy." Allen added.

"At the same time sir, that might just be what we need to do." General Luther spoke up.

"We take the bait they might be handing us? I mean I can understand retaliation but…" Snow almost exclaimed.

"Listen Snow, I know you're constantly concerned with another Circum-Pacific if this is possibly a façade, but we can't just let them kill servicemen and unarmed UN aid workers can we?" Luther asked. The admiral nodded.

"I'm just saying,

"If we are going to make a strike, we need to really stick it to em, make them rethink their ambition." Oleander said with a bit of enthusiasm. It was her willingness to accept audacity in order to deliver justice that kept her in Allen's administration.

"Another shipping raid?" Snow suggested.

"They might expect that, and there are too many shipments they have out there to." Snow replied.

"An air raid is our most viable option. They're swift and can be covered with ease." Smith pointed out, recalling the last meeting. They all looked at the President. He got that sly southern smile he got when he liked how something sounded.

"What about Special Forces?" Allen asked.

"We could launch follow up raids using them, but it will take time to deploy them and find a way to sneak them in." Beck said.

"Whereas we just hand Excalibur the info needed and boom." Allen commented.

"Yes sir." Snow replied.

"Okay then, start shuffling through our Intel and see what we can find that the FLR deems important. Select the top few that appear most valuable and we'll go from there." The president said.

A few minutes later the meeting was dismissed and the staff left to begin planning Osea's next move in their secret war against the FLR…

"Okay so the F-35s will come in low from the southwest and hit the bridges. We'll be positioned along the northeast end of the area, between the 35s and the border." McGavin said, pointing at each section of the bridge as he talked. The image, taken from a spy satellite, gave a good idea of the area but didn't reveal any kind of air defenses (something a photo run would stir up).

The raid was awfully close to North Cholina Eric thought. Oh well as long as they kept away from crossing the border they wouldn't get any kind of trouble. And even then if NLAF (or Peoples Liberation Army of Cholina Air Force) came up it might be a chance to do a little muscle flexing for the Osean pilots.

"The Intel department has given us a little information on the possible threats coming from the border. We do know that the Linese have a few long-range SAMs, a licensed version of the SA-20, used to keep their borders enforced. As for bases there is one positioned near the border but it is unknown if they will attempt to cross over to challenge us." The commander went on.

"Do we know what aircraft are based there skipper?" Mark spoke up.

"Presumably interceptors being as close to South Cholina as they are, but Intel doesn't believe we need to know that so long as we stay in South Cholina's airspace.

"Right." Mark nodded.

"Any further questions?" McGavin asked as he finished briefing the detail of another straightforward TARCAP.

"Same ROE as always sir?" Eric asked. McGavin nodded and gave a sort of wry smile.

"I know it's tough but unless they shoot first we just have to behave ourselves." He said, knowing that the young pilots were all secretly eager to hassle with an adversary.

"Okay, let's make it happen." McGavin said, energy coming into his voice. The other pilots followed suit with the same speed and intensity of their commanding officer.

This time it was VFA-206's turn to get some action. The "Shorebird" JSFs also carried a much cheaper type of ordnance than the SLAM, the smaller (but still deadly accurate) GBU-31 Joint Direct Attack Munition (JDAM). VF-138 would be carrying the same weapons as before, but since the Captain wanted to send in as few jets as possible they couldn't be spared a tanker, which meant the Ronin pilots would have to hold on to their drop tanks until they ran dry.

"Spy Glass this is Strike Lead, egressing feet dry at this time." The lead F-35, Talon 401, radioed.

"Roger that Strike, proceed on." The mission E-12 sent back.

Eric let himself briefly glance at the countryside below. Already a dull gray was coming over the land as things got colder. In the Shimoji Islands by now the cherry blossoms would be falling and trees would be changing. That'd always been a sight to watch. Maybe he'd make a trip back there after this cruise…

"Ronin Flight this is Talon 401, we're at IP Bravo and breaking off. See you on the other side." Came a radio call.

"Roger that Shorebird, all Ronin increase speed and altitude to reach target area how copy?" McGavin replied.

"Ronin 208 roger." Eric said as he pushed the throttles forward and pulled the stick back.

"Ronin 204 Roger." Mark said, following his friend.

Vapor clouds exploded around the two F-21s as their wings came all the way back and they really started moving. Climbing as sharply as he was Eric rolled inverted and eased back the stick again, rolling inverted once he was level. It was always a powerful feeling controlling the Thunderhawk, G-forces non-withstanding. The other two elements caught up and spread out.

"Ronin flight is passing over target, no contacts yet." McGavin spoke up as invisible radar waves reached out across the skies.

Below the broken clouds Eric saw a long thin line and a gray square over the river. They'd been told it was an old rail bridge, derelict and forgotten. Perfect for the FLR's use the blonde surmised. The six jets streaked on and began turning towards the border. As a precaution McGavin had told his pilots to avoid getting too close, less the NLAF take it as a threat and decide to shoot.

Eric pulled back the throttles and watched the wings sweep out. He looked back at Mark and touched his mask with two fingers. As he drew them away he spilt them, making it look like he was giving a peace sign. Mark nodded and broke away to go the opposite direction. Eric looked forward and slid up his visor. He could relax just a little for now.

Meanwhile the F-35s were sweeping in fast, pilots excited to drop some ordnance on the two bridges. Even though Eric was still glad he'd gotten fighters and not strike jets.

The pilot came around, eyes redirecting themselves quickly at the radar. They must've been out of range of the SAM sites. Just then the ECM began to beep. There they were Eric thought. The pitch stayed steady, not increasing. So far the North Linese were just watching them…

"Talon 401 here, going in hot." The lead F-35 called. Once again it was on.

Eric kept his ears tuned to the ECM as the F-21s continued to circle, waiting for anything to come up.

"Ronin be advised, we've got radar contacts just getting airborne in your AO, how copy?" AWACS spoke up.

"Roger that Spy Glass, their position?" McGavin asked.

"Roger, bogeys at 020 for 70, angels 2 and increasing. Look like NLAF birds." The E-12's controller reported.

"Okay everyone you heard him. We've got contacts airborne. Standby to arm but do not engage unless cleared to do so." McGavin instructed.

Eric's hand toggled up the red "master arm" switch above the weapons display. He then selected his AMRAAMs and let out a slow breath.

"Ronin 204, form back on me." He said.

"Roger that 208." Mark said. The farm boy went under the element lead and came around, forming up on his right. The F-21s collapsed back on the strike jets, lining up between them and the contacts.

"Talon 412, nice runs there, I see lots of secondaries." One of the JSF pilots called.

"Roger that!" Talon 412 replied with enthusiasm. Eric chuckled. Only Osean pilots he thought.

"Ronin be advised, we have six bogeys up and transmitting. Heading on course 195, angels 10." The controller updated.

"Roger, orders?" McGavin asked.

"Wait one…" the E-12 replied. Eric felt himself frown. Another case of hurry up and wait he thought.

"…Okay you're cleared to intercept if they cross the border Ronin."

"Roger that, All Ronin get some space between you and the border and be ready to meet these guys, line formation." The fighter commander ordered.

"Okay Tex, turn in now." Eric ordered.

Mark drooped a little and Eric slid up and above him. Mark came after him. Eric watched as the F-35s were solely reforming to egress out of the area. He began to turn and come around, switching his radar to AUTOGUNS to quickly lock up any targets. The ECM changed as the F-21s faced towards the bogeys, their "air-to-air" buttons lighting up on the ECM board.

"Okay we've got an ID on your bogeys. Radar profile matches that of the J-11." AWACS spoke up. Eric glanced at his radar and saw six blips splitting into line formation.

"Radar contact, six bogeys at 020 for 40. Matching our angels." He spoke up.

"Roger that's the bogeys." AWACS confirmed.

"Okay Ronin, don't punch off your tanks yet." McGavin ordered. He got a few "roger that" calls and a few mike clicks.

The two sides closed to 30 miles, the Linese pilots dancing just along the border. Eric watched as they pressed on. These guys had balls he thought.

"Okay I've got a visual!" Mark called.

Eric looked forward and saw black dots in the distance. The radar mode immediately saw them two and started encasing them in Target Display (TD) boxes. The next-gen HUD selected the one being actively tracked and in the top right hand corner displayed the jet's name, its altitude and bearing. Just another high-tech gizmo the F-21 had. Eric kept his missiles at bay though.

"Okay they're across the border." Newport, flying on McGavin's wing, reported.

"Spy Glass request permission to-"

"RWR! RWR! Where's it coming from?!" one of the F-35 pilots shouted.

"Fuck, I don't know! All Talons break and look for trails!" Talon 401 ordered.

Eric started looking around frantically he tilted his plane a little and spotted something down low. One, no two J-11s were hugging the deck just below, and one had a missile coming from it.

"We've got two at low altitude!" the blonde called out.

"Roger I've got a visual on the one he popped off Saber; looks like its heading for you guys Talon!" Mark said, punching off his fuel tank. Eric looked at his control and did the same.

Eric broke hard left and rolled inverted as the Flankers streaked by. As he selected his AIM-9s a call came to his ears, one he'd never thought he'd hear.

"It's got me locked, I can't, I can't!" one of the JSF pilots said, his breathing heavy and strained.

"Flares off 404, get off flares!" Talon 401 ordered.

"Roger flares awa-"

There was a crackle of static as Talon 404 went off the air. The action VF-138 had secretly wanted had just come to them, served on a silver platter.


	9. Chapter 8: Shootout!

_Chp. 8: Shootout!_

_September 29, 2024_

_Near the border of North and South Cholina_

"Talon 404's down! I don't see a chute!"

…What? What did he just say?

"Shit, no that can't be right!"

Eric's thoughts floated in the back of his mind as he dove down at the two J-11s. He felt almost detached from the world he knew, or had known. Suddenly the beeping came into his ear shoved him back into the here and now. His Sidewinders already had tone.

The Flankers, seeing that they'd been spotted, broke formation to break the missile locks on them. Eric eased up on his dive so he wouldn't drive straight into the trees and dirt below.

"Ronin 208 engaging right." Eric called, remembering his training.

"Ronin 204 engaging left." Mark said.

The J-11 Eric called banked right to foil Eric's attack, already flaunting its world-class agility. Eric slowed down and pulled back on the stick to keep his nose pointed at the Linese jet. The bandit went into the vertical, engines at full power Eric jammed back the stick and went after him. In his haste he sot under the Flanker and past him. The J-11 rolled inverted and went after him.

Eric looked in his mirrors. The sleek NLAF bird was in plain view and soon after his ECM started beeping. Eric wasted no time in breaking to try and get the Linese pilot off his tail.

He looked to his left and began to bank sharply. In the distance he could see the other F-21s splitting up to attack the other J-11s. The remaining F-35s charged for the coast and safety in the meantime, their own AIM-9s ready to go in case they needed to defend themselves.

Looking back at the J-11 he saw it still in pursuit. Already his HUD was displaying the warning that he was being tracked and locked onto. Just then it turned red and an electronic voice began to repeat two words like a broken record.

"Missile Warning…Missile Warning…"

The Flanker's left wingtip lit up and a single AA-11 Archer left its pylon. Eric immediately broke right to get inside the weapon's envelope, releasing a burst of flares as he did so. He got lucky and saw the missile fall away after going through the flares. Now he just had to get the Flanker off his tail.

Eric looked forward and made another hard left, dumping all the speed he could afford too. The speedometer dropped towards the point of stalling, but Eric ignored it. The J-11 came past him and Eric gave some power. He pulled up to get the enemy jet in front of him and saw it appear just below his Thunderhawk. He had regained the upper hand and reversed his earlier mistake.

The Flanker pilot rolled right and attempted to use distance. Eric pulled a high yo-yo for a better firing position. He grunted and kept his blood distributed as he performed the maneuver, pressed firmly against his ejection seat. Behind the black visor his eyes struggled to stay focused on the TD box around the J-11.

"Come on…lock up…" he demanded under his breath.

The J-11 continued to try and escape. Eric saw the green diamond on his HUD converge on the TD box and turn red. A steady beeping began to hum in his ear. Eric gritted his teeth and remembered his dad mentioning this moment once. His thumb depressed the button atop the control stick.

"Ronin 208, Fox 2!" he called as the starboard inner AIM-9 shot off its rail and streaked forward.

Eric watched it go towards the Flanker, tracking in on its red-hot tailpipes. The came right between the tails and its 20 lb. warhead fired, beating the enemy plane with both hot metal and force. Eric saw the J-11's tail fins fall off. Eric pulled up and left the doomed fighter to its fate 10000 feet below. Splash one he thought, though he had no time to celebrate.

He looked out the top of his canopy and saw an F-21 chasing after another J-11. He came around and rolled so he'd en right side up.

"Be advised Ronin Talon flight is calling feet wet at this time, good luck." Talon 401 reported.

"Roger that 401 we'll see you back on the boat." McGavin replied.

Eric came towards the two jets he'd spotted and saw the F-21, Mark's, fire off a pair of Sidewinders.

"Ronin 204 Fox 2, Fox 2." He called.

Eric reversed and joined Mark on his wing as the J-11 maneuvered to get away from the missiles one fell for the violent moves but the other exploded as the J-11 reversed to overwhelm he weapon's guidance systems.

"That's two down, repeat Splash two Flankers." Mark radioed with a quick hoot.

"Ronin 204 be advised we're chasing two more bandits towards you, stay heads up and keep your ears tuned." Newport called in response.

"Roger that Ronin 207." Mark replied.

"Y'all see anything else Eric?" the farm boy asked. Eric glanced at his radar and looked around.

"Negative no visual, just radar contacts." He said.

"Roger, stay close man." Mark instructed, now in the lead position.

The two F-21s came back around towards the fight. The ECM started beeping in Eric's ear again. He looked at his panel and saw that the SAM sites inside North Cholina were being brought to bear. Eric remembered reading that the SA-20, or whatever the Linese version was called, had an effective range of 250 miles, so this close to the border they were in plain view.

"All Ronin be advised Linese SAMs are getting in on the fight. Keep heads up for missile launches from ground." He called as the beeping increased. Suddenly his HUD went red.

"Break now Saber!" Mark ordered the same sound in his own ears.

Eric looked around as he dropped altitude. SAMs, unlike weapons fired from the Flankers, you couldn't see a SAM right away. Eric would just have to keep his eyes in the appropriate direction.

As he dropped down he spotted two Flankers coming in at low altitude. They appeared to be waiting for the Oseans.

"Tex, heads up! Two bandits at 3 o'clock!" he called.

"Roger I see em!" Mark called, looking in the specified direction.

The SA-20s no longer the main concern the two F-21s pulled back on the stick and hit the gas and moved towards the J-11s to foil the attack. As the enemy fighters came close they began to climb and used their 30 mm canons to try and hit the fighters. Eric instinctively shut his eyes as a few tracers flashed underneath his plane. They then reversed violently to get on the bandits' tails. Eric felt his head violent go right. He looked and saw the J-11s turning to get another shot.

Mark put some space between himself and Eric. The blonde did the same and leveled out beneath the Linese fighters. Wanting to conserve his Sidewinders he switched to his four AIM-120s. He saw Mark also keeping his distance too.

"Okay Tex let's shoot at the same time, try and overwhelm the bastards." Eric radioed.

"Roger that Saber." Mark drawled.

Eric looked back at the Flankers in his TD Box. The AMRAAM locked up using the F-21's radar instead of heat so he had to wait longer (really only a few seconds so). Eric watched as the box and diamond again became one. He fired off a single AMRAAM.

"Ronin 208 Fox 3!" the pilot called.

Mark's 120 leaped across the five miles between the two jets and exploded on the belly of the J-11. Eric watched as the pilot bailed out from the fireball, continuing upwards as he did. His own exploded just short of the other Flanker, damaging it but not completely destroying it. Eric shot by and considered going in for a gun shot, but the J-11 slid down towards the ground and the border. Eric knew he'd be safe before the Osean could lock him up.

"That makes five down." McGavin reported.

Eric again looked around and saw another black puff in the sky. The commander must've gotten one, along with the three he and Mark had splashed. Maybe Newport had gotten the fifth.

"Be advised remaining three are turning tail and running." Ronin 205, piloted by Lt.(j.g.) Nick "Crash" Malloy, reported.

"Roger all bandits are turning tail and running. Ronin Flight you are ordered to disengage and head southwest back to the boat. We'll get a tanker up on standby." The E-12 instructed, speaking up for the first time since the fight had started.

"Roger that, okay everyone let's go home." McGavin ordered.

Eric took lead and Mark slid back onto his left wing. The blonde held his Rolex up in front of his face briefly. Last he remembered they'd seen the Flankers come on radar at around 0709. It was 0718 now. From the time they'd shot at the JSFs to now, just around nine minutes had passed between those two events. It'd seemed much longer than that…

One of the two Landing Signal Officers (LSO) for VF-138, Lt. Seth Lorsmith, watched as the last F-21 came down on the deck of Excalibur. He let out a breath and wrote down the grade for Lieutenant Commander Newport and looked at VFA-206's LSO, who had to be held back from landing his fellow pilots. Seth put a hand on his fellow aviators shoulder.

"I'm sorry man." He said in consolation. The strike fighter pilot simply nodded and looked at the F-21 being redirected to clear the area for the E-12 also airborne.

Over on the forward starboard aircraft elevator Eric took off his helmet and ran a hand through his now sweat-soaked hair. Next to him Mark was already unstrapping from the jet, just as tired from his first taste of air-to-air combat. The blonde looked at his friend and held up a single peace sign. Mark nodded with an emotionless expression. Peace, with it they had no job the two thought dryly.

The two left the fighters to the crews and reported directly to the ready room to debrief on what had happened over the past hour. McGavin had to report to the bridge at the Captain's request so the other pilots had a few minutes of rest.

Eric, still in full flight gear and throat as dry as it could get, walked to the squadron mailbox and saw a white envelope inside, he took it out and flipped the container over. Sure enough his name was written in the center. Curious, he walked over to his seat and sat down. It was a letter from Misaki (he then remembered he'd give her his address aboard the carrier before he'd left). He began reading it.

Next to him Mark slumped down in his own chair, G-suit and gear stored. He heard Eric chuckle, then start to laugh. The taller pilot pushed up his glasses and looked at Eric with arched eyebrows.

"Th hell's so funny to y'all?" he asked. Eric threw his head back and calmed.

"It's from Misaki. She told me to try and avoid being shot at if things get ugly." He explained. That was quite possibly the biggest example of irony Mark Walker would ever hear.


	10. Chapter 9: To Arms

**_Author's Note: Future Warrior was also inspired once again by GRAW._**

_Chp. 9: To Arms_

_September 30, 2024_

_Camp Hill_

"Lights, lights, lights!"

James shook his head as he heard the Platoon Sergeant walking with a purpose down the hall of the barracks. What was going on?

"Come on marines, get up and get on line!" he bellowed, pounding on doors as he walked down the hall.

James looked over at his clock. It was just after midnight. What a time to be woken up he thought. The marine got out of bed and pulled on his MARPAT trousers, socks and boots and stood on line. Right behind him was his roommate, Lance Corporal Luke "Izzy" Taylor. The two snapped to attention as Benedict came back down the hall.

"Morning Staff Sergeant!" they both said in a loud, disciplined voice. He nodded and stopped at the end of 1st Platoon's hall

"Okay get on your blouses and covers and report to the formation outside, let's move!" he ordered.

"Aye-aye Staff Sergeant!" came the reply.

The marines refrained from talking for the moment, knowing they'd be told whatever they needed to be in due time. Minutes later the four platoons of the company stood at parade rest in the dark in front of their barracks, waiting for the Company Commander: Captain Will Stuart. James kept his eyes forward as the man walked in front of them all and received the reports from each platoon.

"Good morning everyone, I'm sure you're all wondering why we've been woken at this time." The officer began. He took in a breath of fall air before going on.

"We've just been ordered to gear up and deploy to the Southwest Pacific. Apparently tensions there have escalated in the last few days, as you all know we lost a few fellow marines when they shot up the embassy. That was there first mistake, and God willing their last." He began.

"Now I can't tell you if this means war. Right now it doesn't. Remember though, we're Osea's first strike. We'll be moving out in an hour. Get your bags loaded and report back out here." He ordered.

The men were dismissed and rushed back up to their racks. Besides rucksacks, the men would also be donning their combat gear (sans weapons).

"Any ideas?" Izzy asked as he slid his Tactical Vest onto his shoulders.

"None. It's just what the Captain said: we're going in to help the UN if need be." James replied as he finished packing his rucksack.

The marine donned his own vest and the two left the room, maybe for the last time they realized. Jose was already moving down the hall. He looked at them as the three hustled down the stairs.

"You guys ready?" he asked.

"First in, last out." James commented.

Once again they were formed up. A few buses had been called up to take them to the base's airfield, where 2nd Regiment was gathering itself.

At one of the hangars things that needed to be kept under specific watch were distributed. Each marine received his plates for his "dragon skin" armor. The lightweight but incredibly strong material had initially been banned from use but now it was in, being some of the best armor you could have on you. James, being a skinnier marine, liked the stuff even though it'd never been put through the true test of combat.

Next came the thing that made a marine the fighting man he was: his rifle. It's been a long road from the muskets used by the OMC's ancestors. Now James "best friend" was the Remington ACR. A spacey looking machine, it was the replacement for the old workhorse of the marines: the M16. The one issued to James sported a small flashlight as well as a Holographic sight (though he could still use the iron sights by flipping them up. He was also issued a FN Five-Seven sidearm and the proper amount of ammunition (210 for the ACR, 40 for the FN). When it was all said and done, James was carrying quite the weight of equipment.

The marines were once again formed up to inspect their equipment. If combat was indeed coming, they need to make absolutely sure that every piece of their gear was good. Every grenade, every bullet and every adjustment on their sights was looked over while they waited for the helicopters to warm up and prepare.

James put the Future Warrior headset on his head. The system also included, besides the eyepiece and mike, a camera mounted on his right shoulder and a location transmitter on his left. The result of the cancelled Landwarrior system began to boot up as he pressed forward a small switch on the headset. A loading bar flickered up and soon with a few codes being input by the system automatically, a basic HUD sat in front of his eye. Time, and what direction he was facing. He grinned and rotated the eyepiece away.

"Okay Marines, gear up!" 2nd Lieutenant Andrew Hughes, the platoon leader, barked, walking down the line all dressed to fight.

James put on his helmet and secured it before slinging his rucksack on his shoulders. Then with each magazine full he put one in his weapon, thumbed the safety and stood at attention.

"1st Platoon, fall out! One line, organized in squads!" Hughes barked.

The men walked forward, weapons in their hands, out of the hangar, and towards the V-22 Ospreys waiting to take them to the OFS Oured. As James got aboard he hoped he'd have enough time to use one of the satellite phones onboard to call his mom once they landed…

The room sat in dimmed lights, watching the scene unfolding before them. The North Linese had taken the little scuffle and the loss of some of their top of the line fighters to Osean pilots very personally. Now they were shouting and condemning the Oseans and the UN. The leader, Chairman Hu Fai-Sho was now making a speech to add to that claim.

"The Oseans were operating in violation of territorial skies as fired upon a patrolling fighter group sent to investigate." The man went on coldly.

"Bullshit!" someone in the room hissed, mostly for Shorebird 404's sake.

"We call upon the world to join us in punishing this deed. Osea has no right to meddle in foreign affairs, to do what it pleases without any…"

Eric had tuned the man out. He stared at the white board, and let himself think a little. Something bad was coming, he knew that. Maybe not the other part of his mind feebly reasoned. But that thought came and went without even settling in.

"Somebody turn that thing off, or at least change the channel." McGavin spoke up. The lights came on and the screen went black.

"Attention on deck." Lynn called.

Eric stowed his thoughts and stood up at the order position. Today the commander of VF-138 looked especially tense.

"As you were." He said, not even rendering a salute.

"Okay I'll get to the point with this one everyone. We all know North Cholina is doing some serious saber-rattling, and Oured is getting a little uneasy about it." He began.

"Seeing as the NLAF is so willing to pick fights with us, it seems we're going to return the attitude. A new list of ROE guidelines have been issued as of now. Any and all contacts that come from North Cholina and get within 200 miles of the carrier group are to be engaged and destroyed. All aircraft are to be given a radio warning twice if the get within 215 miles. If they continue on, then you are cleared to shoot." He said, pausing only between sentences.

"Intel has suggested the NLAF may attempt to make faints towards us to provoke another incident as justification to launch a full-on assault, so CINCPAC has made it extremely clear that these instructions are not to be bent in any way." The Commander went on. Eric saw Mark's shift uneasily in his chair. The farm boy was just as nervous as his friend.

"The flight schedule is the same as it always is. Check when you're tagged to fly. Until things change we are to maintain this vigilance everyone. Be wary of any foul play." He said, voice reflecting the rather grim future in front of them all.

"Okay everyone, for now try to get what energy you can. Dismissed." He finished.

The men filed out after returning their commander's salute. Eric needed to think, alone. He went to the bathroom to shave and shower. As he dragged the razor across his face he began to wonder how his dad had felt on the eve of the Osean's part in the Belkan War. Mark's grandfather mentioned how grim it'd felt, saying he'd even given the squadron XO a set of Commander's insignia in case he was shot down and killed. Eric shook his head.

"Come on son, you look more afraid than I did!" a voice boomed.

Eric's gaze shot up at the mirror. In its reflection he saw not himself, but his father dressed in his flight suit. Eric's silvery blue eyes got wide.

"Dad?" he asked. The man nodded.

"You'd better buck up too, or else some hot shit Linese pilot's gonna zap you." The apparition said, pointing a finger at his son. His voice was very firm.

"Y-yes sir." Eric nodded.

'You survived once, don't start digging your grave yet, got it?" CAG Bradford made clear. Eric nodded and the older pilot then smiled.

"I'm proud of you Eric; you've got guts to do what you do. Now good luck and may your trigger finger stay itchy." Ryan said. Before Eric could respond it was once again his apparition. Suddenly he felt he needed to do something important. He rushed through the shave and shower and walked with purpose back to his room. Mark was fast asleep in his bottom bunk. Eric sat down at the desk and took a piece of paper. He began writing, knowing exactly what he needed to say. He hoped the C-2 hadn't taken off yet…

"Okay it looks like one to me." The UAV operator said.

"Shit your serious?" his friend asked, looking over his shoulder. The man nodded.

"Lead one's right there." He pointed out; using his finger to help show what he'd been talking about.

"Signature sure looks like it." The other man said.

"How far are they?" the UAV operator asked. The other crewmember of the E-8 looked at the Global Hawk's position and found it on the map.

"They go down that road for another minute or two and they cross the border." He frowned.

"Uh sir, we've got a VID on PLAC Armor crossing the border. Count at least 20 vehicles, maybe more, how copy?" The UAV operator spoke up. The man in charge of the cabin area looked over.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, visibly surprised.

"Yes sir, it looks like the PLAC is making a ground thrust into South Linese territory. I suggest we get someone on the line sir or else they're gonna be to the south of the country by nightfall." The UAV pilot said…

Misaki stirred a little as she heard the low rumble. As it continued, only growing louder. Soon she recognized it: jet engines. The nurse sat up, her sheets falling away and looked around.

"June?" she asked quietly. There was the sound of movement but no words.

"June, June wake up!" she said, maintaining her low volume.

"What is it Misaki, it's still dark." Came a groan. The sound was distinct now. She heard the Osean women sit up too.

"Is that a jet?" she asked.

"Yes, but it's not that about it that makes me nervous…" Misaki replied.

The aircraft was small. She remembered Eric taking her to watch planes fly off at Shiatami. It sounded the same, and sounded like more than one. Misaki heard as it swept right over them at whatever altitude it was at. The tent rattled subtly. The jets went on, and unbeknownst to the UN workers in violation of sovereign airspace…

"Mr. President." General Smith saluted. Allen returned it.

"What is it Randy?" the man asked from behind his desk.

"Sir, we just received confirmation from multiple sources that the PLAC is rolling into South Cholina, and as far as we're concerned they're not bringing relief supplies." He said in a straight voice.

The President nodded and put his hands together in thought. The Chairman of the JCS waited patiently.

"Assemble the others Randy, we need to know what we can throw back at them as soon as we can." He said in a calm tone. Osean was once again at war…


	11. Chapter 10: Balloon Up

**_Author's Note: the H-22 is like the H-16, only its a licensed copy of the Tu-22M_**

_Chp. 10: Balloon Up_

_October 1, 2024_

_OFS Excalibur_

"Eric, why in the hell are y'all writing at two in the morning?"

So Mark had finally noticed his friend's activities he thought. The blonde turned around in his seat and held up an envelope.

"I'm going to ask Misaki to be my wife." He explained without hesitation. Mark came up so fast he hit his head against the top bunk.

"Arggh, shit! What did y'all just say?" He exclaimed, in a mix of surprise and pain.

"Just like you're going to marry Sarah Mark, I'm going to marry Misaki." He repeated. The pilot put on his glasses and stared at his friend, jaw slack.

"Are y'all smoking something Eric? I'm serious." He asked.

"I'm dead serious Mark, DEAD serious." Eric replied, standing up. Mark nodded, finally receiving the message.

"I understand, I understand." He nodded, rubbing his head.

Eric sat back down and stared at the envelope for a few minutes. He knew he'd have to move quickly. If Misaki's father found out he'd move to stop Eric's proposal, but for him to find out there have to be a few rather unrealistic things done. Hopefully now this situation would calm down and he could get the letter to her

"Now if y'all will excuse me I'm going back to sleep." Mark said, rubbing his head again and sliding back into his bunk…

The single E-12 Pelican was in a state of near suspended animation as it circled in the inky black night. Crammed inside the three radar operators' faces were lit by the screen they stared at. The APY-9 radar stared out in all directions, placing an invisible umbrella over the battle group. It wasn't nearly as glamorous as the jobs of the other Wing's squadrons, but it was one of the most important.

"I'm telling you, they have the best Ruebens on the west coast." The combat information center officer insisted to the air controller next to him.

"Okay, okay Rob that's the third time on this flight you've said that!" he replied, annoyed. The man chuckled and looked back at his screen.

"I'm telling you, not a thing out there…" the radar controller said to his friends.

"…that's always what Murphy wants us to think." Rob pointed out, referring to the law of how what can go wrong will.

The radar controller's eyes swept across the display again, looking for anything that wasn't a blue triangle or square. His eyes especially took their time sweeping the area near the Linese coast. If the Linese were coming, it'd be from that way, and the second they were seen, the alarm would be raised and every F-21 in the wing would be on their way.

Meanwhile in Excalibur's CIC several thousand feet below, Captain Greg Harrison sat in his chair, watching as the heart of the group's ability to fight sat ready. The AWACS above was providing radar, and Admiral Dennis White, the group commander, had all ships observing EMCON. Radars and radios were off, even scramblers. Only if something important happened would that silence be broken he thought.

All around him men went about their business, writing down the location and bearings of ships in the same way sailors had done for decades in grease pencil on clear boards.

"Skipper." The XO, Commander Andrew Howard, spoke up. Harrison looked at him.

"What is it Andy?" he asked, standing up.

"The Pelican's got something sir." He replied.

Harrison stood up and walked over to a display that received what the E-12 saw via a computer link. Up in the top section he saw several triangles, increasing in number steadily.

"Number matches wing attack strength pattern sir, believed to be H-22 bombers or JH-7 strike jets with escort." The radar operator replied.

"What are the nearest ships?" Harrison asked. He looked over at the digital map display that showed the group.

"The destroyers Carol and Vindicator sir." One of the men replied.

"Relay to comms and have them tell the Barracuda move to assist. Andy gets CAG on the line. I want nothing other than Hawks and Lightings equipped with buddy stores up top. Have him launch another Pelican and the alert five." The man said, handing out orders at machinegun speed…

The captain of the OFS Barracuda, an Aegis II class ship, watched as the helmsman turned the ship to the right. The Arthur Bright class Destroyers, although each capable of launching RIM-174 SAMs, did not carry as many as the air-defense cruiser. Already the vertical launch tubes were being loaded with the weapons, but that would take time. Half the tubes always carried 174s, but it was surprising (at least in tests) how fast 61 missiles could be fired. Of course the main air defense effort lay in the hands of the carrier's aircraft…

"General Quarters, General Quarters, all hands man battle stations!"

It'd be the first time in his career Eric would be briefed as they got airborne. Whatever was coming was big or else the fighters von BARCAP would've taken care of it themselves. The sound of flight boots thundering against the deck filled everyone's ears as the 12 pilots scrambled up top despite the heavy weight of their equipment.

The carrier's low lights were on and the space belonged to the members of the fleet air defense mission. Already the catapults were in use, getting up a pair of F-35s equipped to give the fighters precious fuel when needed. Mark stuck his helmet on his head as he moved to catch up with Eric.

"Y'all ready to get some more Saber?!" the farm boy yelled. There was no asking who was coming.

"Damn straight!" the blonde replied.

"She all ready sir!" Willard shouted as he approached.

Eric nodded and went up the boarding steps as the crew cleared the plane. He strapped in and looked at the huffer's operator. On Eric's signal his engines were fed warm air as the machine's pilot secured his Oxygen mask. He lowered his visor and cockpit simultaneously to save time. The pilot reached behind and hit a small switch. From a casual observers view his helmet visor turned a dark shade of green. Another one of the F-35's HMD incorporated into the HGU: built-in night vision. From Eric's point of view, the dark carrier deck was now very much in view. The plane director in front of him raised a pair of lights and waved the now ready plane forward.

The rear deck was like a parking lot after school. Sailors not working crowded into the catwalks to avoid the engine intakes. Shouting and hooting for the pilots to go and royally kick ass.

Eric watched as his friends got airborne. The catapult crews were pushing themselves well beyond operational speed. God bless the guys Eric thought.

Night shots in themselves were unlike any other part of aviation. It was unnerving enough having absolutely no control over a shot as it was, but when you did it at night (even with night vision) you almost wanted to hand in your wings.

Eric felt the deck leave him below and looked up at the signal lights of other fighters. AWACS was already telling the Thunderhawks to get moving along towards the bandits. Despite the chaos Mark found his friend and the two followed up after their friends.

"Must be one big formation to get the whole squadron up." Mark drawled. No kidding Eric thought.

"All call signs this is Stormwatch, confirmed air-raid inbound, heading 358 for 140, angels 11. At least regiment strength, repeat, regiment strength." One of the E-12s called. Eric's eyes widen. That was at least 60-63 aircraft, but total? Just the attackers? The fighters?

Eric redirected his energy towards arming his weapons and radar. Things felt like they were going faster than he could comprehend.

"All flights this is Thunderbolt 100, form up into elements and engage at will, I repeat engage at will." CAG ordered.

"Ronin 201 to squadron, you heard the man." McGavin spoke up.

Like a well-rehearsed play, the twelve F-21s formed up in two V-formations so the pilots could have room to fire their AMRAAMs. Eric and Mark could hear Cody Walker bragging how the F-14's AIM-54 Phoenix could reach out farther than anything. The weapon would remain unique to the old fighter however, as it was too heavy for the F-21.

"Everyone lock at bandit." McGavin ordered.

Eric selected AUTOGUNS and watched as the APG-72 did its magic. With his AMRAAMs his selected munition, he could reach farther and dump some extra weight before getting in close with his gun and Sidewinders.

"Okay we've got bandits turning at us, all Ronin the second you shoot get some space, and don't forget to drop your centerline. The sky's gonna be full so listen and watch for the others!" the squadron commander said.

VF-123, upon hearing the call, moved to the right and gave their friends space. In the distance Eric could see the faint shapes of surface ships moving to assist the fighters. Just then another call sounded.

"Vampire! Vampire!"

"How many?!"

"Five and going up fast!"

Down below the vertical launchers of the Carol and Vindicator were flashing with missile launches. The weapons went up like space shuttles launching before arcing into a normal flight path. They were so bright Eric almost turned off his Nigh Vision.

"Stormwatch to all call signs, enemy formation breaking and reforming, looks like their fighters are

"Ronin Flight standby for max range." McGavin ordered. The two sides closed within 50 miles of one another.

This time it's different boys Eric thought. No low blows, no ambushes, just straight up mano-e-mano fighting. He rested his finger on the launch button and sucked in another breath of dry oxygen.

The TD boxes came up and the IFF labeled them as J-11s. Eric felt his muscles tense a little more as the NLAF jets closed in to range. The ECM started beeping as the Flankers armed their own long range weapons. The V flatted a little as max range for the AMRAAM came in.

Eric licked his lips and waited for lock. He had hoped he could've gotten Misaki's picture for luck, but for now he'd just have to rely on his training again.

"Ronin 201 Fox 3." McGavin said.

With that call the others began to fire after their commander. Ryan watched as Mark fired an AMRAAM. The ECM's beeping increased as the TD Box met the tracking diamond. Eric depressed the launch button.

"Ronin 208, Fox 3!" he called.

The formation of AIM-120s streaked ahead of their launchers, eating up the distance to their prey. The J-11s had at the same time let off a volley of AA-12 Adders, the 120's eastern counterpart.

"Break formation!" McGavin ordered.

Eric shot off flares and rolled inverted, diving towards the deck, Mark on his wings.

"Yah with me Tex?" Eric asked.

"Roger!" the farm boy managed under the g-forces.

The two rolled level again at 5000 feet and relit their afterburners. Eric looked up and could see the AMRAAMs going onwards. Further out were the Linese pilots' own long-range weapons. The two groups passed each other without acknowledgment. Eric's missile warning was blaring, but he paid it little attention. He knew they were coming; he just needed to know which was aimed at him.

The Adders' trails began to go separate ways as did the AMRAAMs. Eric saw two coming downwards.

"Heads up! Two missiles coming down!" he called.

"Roger I see em." Mark nodded.

In those next few seconds as they climbed sharply to overwhelm the weapons' guidance systems the air was getting chaotic with chatter. Pilots were calling out missiles coming and hitting. Eric drained away the white noise and looked up at the Flanker he'd shot at. It was still there and coming down at him. He pulled back on the stick and went for another AMRAAM shot, letting off the centerline as he did. The J-11 came down like a comet towards the two F-21s. As they came in close the Flanker's right wing root lit up.

"30mm!" Mark cried.

The two F-21s broke away from one another, tracers flashing by what felt like feet away. The Linese fighter was ever close. Eric felt his F-21 shudder as the bandit shrieked by.

"He's mine!" Eric snarled, pulling back the stick.

The F-21 climbed sharply and began a loop. At the top Eric rolled level and went down after the Flanker, who'd gone into the vertical too. Eric was too close for AMRAAM and went to his AIM-9s.

The Flanker continued its loop even tighter. Eric almost stalled and was forced to undershoot. The J-11 stayed above and just in front of him. Eric stayed just above stall speed; his wings swept all the way forward as the J-11 completed its loop. Eric stayed on him.

As they went back down towards earth gravity gave them speed. The Flanker rolled level and again pulled up. Eric had space now. He went into a lag pursuit and kept his nose at the Flanker. With a growl his first Sidewinder got a good clear whiff of the two tailpipes a mile and a half away. He wasted no time.

"Ronin 208, Fox 2!" he called.

The weapon ran ahead towards its target. At the close range the Flanker's flares went off too late, and the AIM-9 hit him in the tailpipes. Eric rolled out of the way of the explosion. All around the madness was playing out

"Mayday, mayday I've got one on my tail!" someone shouted.

Eric climbed up and looked out for the distress call. He saw an explosion in the distance and turned towards it. Though his mind didn't fully grasp it at first, he'd been too late to address the call for help.

He flew over the destroyer Carol as it fired another SAM. He leveled out and used the remnants of the gone F-21 as a reference. His radar picked up the target and identified it. Eric saw the designation on his HUD.

"J-10"

Eric gulped a little. His instincts then responded with bravery. Okay let's see just how well you fight he thought. The Osean pounced on the Linese from behind and above. He saw the J-10, shaped like the Eurofighter right in front of him. As he went for lock the J-10's ECM picked up the new opponent and immediately reversed, even harder than the J-11 could. Eric went after him, the Linese machine almost parallel with his. Eric saw as the J-10 bleed more speed. Eric immediately broke towards him, hoping it would do something to keep the bandit off his tail. The J-10's belly was all he saw. Eric continued left and away from the J-10. Eric looked back and saw it level out and come at him.

The Osean knew he was in a bad position. If the J-10 had knocked down the other Thunderhawk as fast as it had, he was close to joining the pilot. Eric punched himself in the gut with the stick as the J-10 fired a single AA-11 Archer at him. Eric dumped off flares and went vertical. The Linese pilot gave him another AA-11 to occupy his thoughts. Eric pulled hard right and moved to go inside the missile's envelope and make it lose him. The weapon streaked right by him as he did, but caught his signature enough that it exploded. Eric felt his plane shake.

"Tex, where the fuck are you?" he shouted.

"Hang on Saber I'm coming!" Mark assured.

The farm boy came down at the J-10 as it turned back towards his friend, aiming to get Eric from below. He selected his AIM-9s and fired one to get the Linese pilot off the other J-10 took the threat and broke off chase, though he avoided overshooting Eric.

Mark saw the J-10 slingshot up at him. He lowered his nose and shot under. The J-10 reversed as soon as it could. Mark went vertical and pulled a loop, hoping to get out of sight. He saw Eric coming at the Linese fighter from the side to run interference.

"Get him Tex! Shoot! Shoot!" Eric shouted.

Mark sucked in fresh Oxygen and glanced at Sarah's picture as the AIM-9 got solid lock. He grinned widely and squished the button under his thumb.

"Ronin 204, Fox 2!" he called.

The single weapon went down and caught the J-10 in the left wing. Mark flew over the tumbling wreck.

Eric watched as his friend shot by and took in a breath. So far so good he thought…


	12. Chapter 11: The First Casualties of War…

_Chp. 11: The First Casualties of War…_

_October 1, 2024_

_Southwest Pacific_

The _OFS Vindicator_ was going through its missile stocks faster than it ever had. The outside was completely devoid of people as smoke sat inert over the missile cells, choking g the air with its presence. From the north came dozens of "Vampires", the radio call for anti-ship missiles. On this fateful night they were found to be the Yingji-82 "Cascade". Already about 60% had been defeated by Standards, but the other 40% was still coming in at the three ships at close to Mach one, invalidating the distance between point A and B.

As the lead missiles streaked past the SAMs the last resorts of the two destroyers and cruiser were called up. The Carol and Vindicator's Close-In Weapon Systems, known as "Sea-Whiz" to Osean sailors, started ripping away at the missiles in hopes of stopping them. Every man aboard the ships was sweating bullets as the 20mm weapons continued to go at it. Just then a call no man ever wanted to hear during his time in the Navy came.

"All hands brace for impact!"…

The 165kg warhead detonated right behind the superstructure. The initial shock did enough damage to send her back to port for a month. The explosion pried away the ship's skin like wrapping paper on a Christmas present. The horror on the inside was just a shaking. Men were throw about by the impact, those close enough killed instantly.

High above as they gained a position to look for more bandits, Eric and Mark only saw a bright light down below. Though they couldn't witness it first hand, already shouts were coming from others.

"What ship did they hit?!" Derek asked.

"I don't know DJ; I can't see its number!" Mark replied, leaning towards the explosion.

Eric looked around. The Linese pilots were all drifting back north, either trying to bait the Oseans in or avoid the barrage of missiles coming from their strike jets.

"All jets push the bandits towards their strike jets, try and make traffic heavy for them!" CAG shouted.

DJ sliding up to join them, the three jets (Eric, Mark, and DJ) followed the others after the Linese. Their enemy was regrouping and pooling its strength for the next round.

"Okay there's three of em." Mark called as he glanced at his radar. He still had AMRAAMs left. The farm boy glanced over at Eric on his left wing and DJ on his right. Probably just like Futuro in '85 Granddad he thought. The pilot looked forward and locked his radar onto the nearest bandit, another J-10.

"Heads up, two more J-10s at two low." Mark called.

Eric looked and saw DJ breaking off. He did the same as Mark went up and rolled to get the jump on the Linese pilots. He saw them shoot directly underneath. They already had the advantage he thought with a grunt. The pilot came around to try and deny them getting any further. DJ was just above him also in a hard turn.

The J-10s had spilt in separate directions and were pulling back towards the F-21s. Eric watched as one went above the others and chose him. The pilot aimed his nose right at the Dragon, moving aggressively. The Linese pilot was completing his come around and looking to get Eric before Eric got him. But strangely he didn't pull down at Eric when he did, instead falling short. Eric rolled inverted and followed the bandit. Whatever his reason, the pilot had just made himself Eric's next kill. The Dragon then began to run. Maybe he'd lost his nerve. Just then he pulled up towards a cloud. Eric followed his next AIM-9 close to lock.

Suddenly the ECM came to life. Eric looked around and saw two JH-7 strike aircraft (called the "Flounder" by Osean pilots) at his 3 o' clock. Though less than ideal dogfighters, they were equipped with AA-11s for self-defense. As he saw each fire their air-to-air weapons, he knew he'd been suckered into a trap.

Eric pulled the stick back and left to avoid the shots as quickly as he could. He'd be getting close to them but if he moved quickly enough he could get out of their "sights". For good measure he also sent a burst of flares off into the night sky. The trick worked, barely.

"Ronin 210, Fox 3!" DJ shouted.

Eric looked up and saw his friend's F-21 coming down, two AMRAAMs flying ahead of the fighter. The two Flounders broke to avoid the weapons. Eric saw two flashes.

"Thanks DJ, I owe you one!" Eric radioed.

"Roger that." DJ grinned.

Eric passed under his friend and looked for the J-10 that had baited him in. he spotted it circling at low altitude, probably waiting in case the Flounders failed. Eric came around and eased his control stick forward. He knew the Dragon's pilot saw him coming, but Eric didn't intend to take his time. The AIM-9 zeroed in on the J-10's intakes as it rose up to defend itself. Eric depressed the launch button and with a "Fox 2" call sent the heat seeker down towards the J-10. At the same time the Linese pilot fired his 23mm cannon. Eric pushed the stick forward again and went to full afterburner. He passed far underneath the bandit as the doomed fighter met the Sidewinder head-on. And that brings the count up to three he thought…

Even though he'd been separated from DJ and Eric, Mark had no time to worry about that as the J-11 rolled inverted and came back down at him. The rolling scissors had started when Mark had managed to rescue Lynn from the Flanker and his buddy. Lynn had taken one and Mark this one. Now both were using the maneuver, trying to get on their adversary's tail.

Mark looked at his fuel. He'd need to get this guy soon or lure him into range of one of the ships or another Thunderhawk. The Flanker and he crossed paths again. Still can't get a good angle on him Mark frowned, or enough distance! He sighed and went from his AIM-9s to his cannon. He'd been really reluctant to use it, since gun kills in modern day were HARD to get. But he was out of options.

"Come on come up one more time…" he coaxed as the J-11 came back up to try and get at him again.

The farm boy pulled back on the stick as the two jets again came in for the merge. His finger curled around the trigger like it did when he went hunting. As the J-11 was a few centimeters from the pipper on his HUD, he pulled the trigger. The M61's six barrels spun up and a tongue of 20mm went forward. As he fired, Mark eased back the throttles and the stick, keeping lead on his target. As he came in close Mark rolled left and flew past the J-11. In his rearview mirrors he saw the machine falling back. He looked over and saw it begin to tumble. A wide grin formed on his face. He'd made VF-138's first air-to-air gun kill of the war. He looked forward and shook a fist in enthusiasm.

"Like hunting bucks!" He hooted.

"Glad to know you're still up Tex, you get that other Flanker?" Lynn called.

"Yes ma'am, with my gun too." Mark boasted, unable to hide how proud he felt. The XO laughed.

"Nice shootin Tex." She said in a fake drawl.

Mark came back around and looked over the situation. Among the broken clouds, his Night Vision revealed several black puffs from jets that'd been shot down. In the distance he could see that the_ Vindicator_ was still on fire some, black ugly smoke drifting into the sky. Wonder how many of our guys got waxed he thought.

"Stormwatch to all call signs, bandits are retreating north. Disengage how copy?" the E-12 spoke up. Mark had almost forgotten about the AWACS bird.

"Ronin 201 to flight, form up on me…let's go home…" McGavin said, voice reflecting a mix of exhaustion and relief.

Mark slowly banked left. He saw two more F-21s and joined them.

"Still alive Saber?" he asked, looking at the plane's side number.

"Yeah, I'm good." Eric said. the blonde looked over at DJ and nodded.

"Same here, say Tex when are you gonna give me that 40 you owe me from pool?"

"When I pull it outta my rear yah greedy bastard, besides we never finished that game." Mark drawled, pulling off his mask.

"Leave it to DJ to keep that in the back of his head on the first day of a war." Eric said. DJ chuckled, and then went silent for a minute.

"Yeah the first day…day two just started guys…" DJ announced. Eric looked at his watch. It was one in the morning. Day two of whatever the history book would label this was in fact just starting. Eric looked up and followed his friends as they, and hopefully the entire squadron, flew south towards the Excalibur…

_OFS Oured_ and her escorting group pushed through the seas of the Central Pacific towards the Shimoji Islands. Aboard her were no less than 2,200 marines. The same could be said for her sister ship, _OFS Bastok_, carrying more men and machines to the front line. Besides that the amphibious command ship _OFS Kirwin Island_ travelled alongside them to coordinate things once they were put into use.

James lay in his bunk, fast asleep. The ship had been at sea for about three days now. Between leaving Camp Hill and now it'd been a whole lot of sit and wait, with not a peep from Cholina.

"Oy, Brad, wake up." Izzy said. James felt something land on his chest. He shook his head and looked down to see a girly magazine he took the thing and tossed it back to the redhead.

"Aww what are yah, queer?" Izzy asked. James gave him the finger

"So where are we?" the marine asked, rubbing his eyes.

"The same place as when you fell asleep, the middle of the big wide ocean." Izzy said, putting the magazine under his rucksack.

"At least were closer to the fight than we were." Jose spoke up. The two looked at him.

"What fight?" James asked.

"The North Linese invaded the South. It's on the TV they have set up in the nearest mess deck. They plowed across the border late last night and have half the country in flames." The Hispanic marine said.

"No shit?" James asked.

"None." Jose replied. The two marines on their bunks exchanged glances.

Jose pulled himself up onto his own bunk above them. Just then the speakers around them came to life. A whistle sounded

"Now hear this, now hear this, an announcement from the CO, Captain Lark, and Colonel Reiner of the 13th MEU." A voice said. There was a brief pause

"Gentlemen, approximately five hours ago the People's Liberation Army of Cholina launched a massive and unprovoked attack against her neighbor of South Cholina. They also dared to attack the Excalibur Battle Group stationed in the waters off the two countries…" the ship's commanding officer began.

"…This act of war towards both countries will not be allowed to remain so. We are to assume combat mentality gentlemen. Us along with our sister ship the Bastok are the backbone of the ability to get ashore fast and first. We will receive further orders once we arrive in theater, but until things change remember who we are and why we're here, that is all." He went on. Another voice cleared its throat.

"Marines, this is Colonel York…the Captain has explained to you what is going on, but being your commander I felt it not only appropriate, bur necessary, to remind you of our job. We are Osea's first strike, the men who go in before the others. Now I can't say when, or where, we will go ashore, but I can say we will. We will go ashore, we will strike without restraint, and we will not retreat. And that strange and painful sensation the Linese will feel in the seats of their pants, will be us shoving our bayonets up their asses as they retreat!" he went on. There was a pause.

"That is all, good luck marines, more than just our families are leaning on us for this one." He finished. The speakers went silent.

"Well guys, the next stop: South Cholina." James said. He fell back on his bunk and stared up. He was finally going to go in. real combat.

How long had he wanted to be a marine? Since he was seven? Six? The number of times he'd come home dirty as a little kid playing soldier. But that was different. After "bang, you're dead" there was no falling down, sticking out your tongue and getting back up a minute later. No, after that was a body bag and a flag being handed to your heartbroken mother…the young marine gulped. I hope mom's prayers work he thought…

Vindicator's fire was now long gone, and she was soon to head east to the Shimoji Islands for repairs. Eric watched the wounded ship as it limped alongside the carrier. He didn't know how many had died from the hit it'd taken, and he didn't want to know. It'd make him think straighter.

Four jets had been lost in the fight, and two men killed. Ruluski had been badly injured and taken to sick bay. His ability to fly was questionable. Of course like any good pilot he was complaining about going home, and trying to find some way to get back on flight status. VF-123 had lost two pilots to include its XO. The Linese had lost about 15 against the air wing, and more against SAMs from the surface ships. Officially Osea won, but the NLAF could still have its bragging rights about its victories.

Eric looked down at his boots and took in a deep breath. With a hard look he stared at the rising sun. Despite his fear, inside he felt stone-solid determination form in him. He knew he had to do what his father had, and just focus on getting the job done. With clenched fists he declared to himself what he intended to do.

"I will survive this, I will not die, and I'm gonna marry Misaki no matter what." He said.


	13. Chapter 12: Causing HARM

**_Author's Note: The F-119 is a sort of future version of the F-15E Strike Eagle_**

_Chp. 12: Causing HARM_

_October 2, 2024_

_The War Room, Oured_

"…We believe that they hit with a regiment sized force sir." Snow said as he debriefed President Allen on the first battle of the war.

"And they only went after the Excalibur correct?" the Commander In Chief assumed. The admiral nodded.

"Yes sir, The Harling had the protection of still being inside Shimoji waters, so the NLAF, excuse me PLACAF, wouldn't be able to get to them without causing a messy international incident." North assured.

"Have we managed to maintain contact with the South Linese government?" Allen asked.

"Yes sir, they've moved to the city of Kaedon, though they can't stay safe their forever. The North Linese have four divisions so far rolling into the country and heading south down the peninsula." North answered.

"General, we've got two MEUs enroute am I correct?" The president asked the Commandant of the Osean Marine Corps, Jerry Reiner. The gruff old man nodded.

"Yes sir and I suggest we get them on the shore as soon as we can. They may not be enough to hold the Linese advance for long but they can at least get our foot in the door." He reported.

The president nodded and sat back in his seat. How he went about things from here would determine whether or not he would fulfill the oath he'd taken two years ago. He had no real choice now. Osean troops had been attacked and to show restraint would only invite the North Linese to act even more freely. He sat upright in his seat, a look of steely resolve on his face.

"I understand, okay then it looks like we're fully committed now everyone. I want things in motion to get help to the South Linese military. The North is throwing everything it can at them and the UN so they can't hold out forever." Allen said in conclusion…

Captain Harrison watched as the deck crew all lined up shoulder to shoulder for the morning FOD walk-down. A line of red, blue, purple, yellow, white and green began to wipe across the 4.5 acre deck, looking for anything that could beat up the turbines of a jet's engines. They couldn't afford that he thought, especially not now.

The carrier was sailing south to avoid the wrath of another large-scale air raid. He first had eaten up plenty of ordnance in terms of SAMs and air-to-air missiles. Harrison sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Hopefully OFS Savior, the fleet resupply ship, would finish helping Barracuda and Carol and get to giving Excalibur what she needed. Vindicator had left long ago for Shiatami. She would have to spend time there for repairs. It was just too far to St. Hewlett for Harrison to let her go there.

"Latest weather report sir." A member of the meteorology department spoke up.

Harrison turned around towards the sailor at attention and took the sheet of paper from him before dismissing him. The skies were to be heavy with clouds today. The rainy season was rolling down and over the area. Nothing that adversely effected operations in 2024 (pending it wasn't too severe of a storm).

"Well Skipper?" Howard asked. His superior set down the clipboard.

"Nothing that'll affect flight ops Andy, just some rain." The man replied.

"Do you think we can put enough hurt on the North to slow them down sir?" The XO asked. Harrison only shrugged.

"We can only do what we Andy, and hope soon more guys can come to help…" He said.

"…And they should be taking off in a few hours." The man added…

The doctors sat in the tent, all eager to here from the security commander how soon they would be leaving for safety. They'd been kept in the dark about the situation and exactly what was going on. Rumors were growing that the country had been invaded, there was a full-scale revolution going on, etc, etc. Misaki had hoped to find out from Eric (if he wasn't barred by the Navy from releasing that kind of info) but things were happening too fast for a letter to get to her in time.

The security team leader was a soldier from Ustio. He stood at around Eric's height with chiseled features and a long nose. He walked in with his usual stern face, betraying he was concentrated right now on nothing other than the business at hand.

"Well Captain Holt?" Dr. Horst asked. The man looked at him.

"According to region HQ, the North Linese military is invading the country." He announced. He let a few murmurs go around before clearing his throat.

"We've been informed too…that due to the speed of the Linese advance…we may not be able to receive evacuation…"

"What?" June exclaimed.

"The Linese are hitting fast and hard and the UN is not equipped to fight them like a regular army. The Linese military is trying to hold them but is also under heavy pressure…we have also been informed that we may be behind the front soon…" he went on. Misaki raised a hand.

"Then shouldn't we try to make it to the front and safety?" she asked.

"Personally I would agree, but our orders are to stay here. HQ says a small medical station like us will in all likelihood be overlooked and when things settle down we can leave."

"So they're just asking us to hide and hope we don't get found?" Dr. Halon exclaimed.

"Yes, I know it's not what you wanted but realize that we are in the middle of a war now, and unless you have a better idea this option is our only chance!" he said with a firm and commanding voice. Halon relaxed.

Misaki felt herself getting uneasy about what was happening. It was worse than 2010 when the Yuktobanians had made a few attacks against Osean instillations in the Shimoji Islands early in the war, before Osea had landed on the country's shore. Of course then she'd had Eric to protect her and his mother (his little brother had been sent to Osea after it was safe to live with Eric's aunt and uncle). Now she was back in that state of vulnerability, only this time she wasn't in friendly territory under attack.

"In order to survive we'll need to begin better establishing our position. We need to be ready to stay here a long time." He added. Misaki sighed and began to wonder if they really would be overlooked…

Eric rested his hand on the AGM-88 HARM (High-Speed Anti-Radiation Missile) as he inspected his F-21. It was better flying Iron Hand, the navy term for missions against air defense batteries, than air support or strike, but at the same time he felt his status lower a bit. After all he signed up to be a "fighter" pilot. Ah well he chuckled, remembering that his dad had griped a little about the F-14 getting the capability to drop bombs.

The F-21 could only carry two AGM-88s due to weight constraints (which if breeched would negatively affect his jet's abilities). As such they'd be his first weapons to fire and he hoped to "get rid" of them in quick succession. With the half a dozen SAM sites defending the target that wouldn't be a problem.

Besides that, he noted, he had two CBU-89 Cluster Bombs hung on the out wing pylons. The weapons were most effective against AA guns, since you could release them high up and out of the weapon's reach. This was to help him save his two HARMs for SAM sites, but it meant his defensive was restricted to a pair of AMRAAM in the forward wells. He didn't even get a centerline, which was replaced by an ALQ-184 jammer pod. That, he thought with a frown, was perhaps the Thunderhawk's biggest flaw. It was only lessened by the promise of tanker support while egressing off target.

Eric came back around to the right side of the cockpit and looked proudly at the kill markings painted near the nose. Those gave him and extra burst of energy as he scrambled up the ladder and into the cockpit. The escorting F-22s were probably just as eager to try and match the Navy's feat. He looked over at Mark, who gave his friend a fist pump. The farm boy then lowered his cockpit. Eric returned it and looked down at the two pictures taped to his cockpit. One was of his mom, him and James before the cruise and the other was in no small part central to his luck: Misaki.

The launch that morning was a busy one. The Excalibur had been handed a "double raid" meaning jets were being launched at the same time against two different targets. Besides VF-138's Iron Hand flight, there would be a few E/A-18s, with the rest of the assets being directed towards a raid on a petrol plant. VF-138 was tagged to help a massive Air Force raid on the port of Cah-Vai.

Needless to say the flight north to meet the Air Force component was uneventful for Eric. He simply concentrated on his fuel gauge and HUD. He glanced over at Mark to make sure he wasn't having any problems and looked forward.

"Iron Hand this is Stargazer, we've got you on scope coming from 185. Proceed on to meet Rampart and Mantis flights, how copy?" a voice spoke up, breaking the silence.

"Roger that Stargazer, good to know they made it." Eddie replied.

Eric looked around and saw an organized cluster of dots becoming visible. The F-21s flew towards their rear flank and lowered altitude to come around and under. He looked up as they descended and saw the silhouettes of F-119 Avenger IIs, the Air Force's premier all-weather strike fighter (a role once fulfilled by the Strike Eagle, which it closely resembled). Higher up were his and every F-21 pilot's friendly rivals: Osean Air Force F/A-22A Raptors. Spacey looking machines, the pilots liked to boats about their stealth and dogfight abilities.

"Mantis 1-1 to Iron Hand 1, welcome aboard." The lead 119 radioed.

"Roger that Mantis." Eddie replied.

The F-21s slid out in front of the Avengers but kept lower than them. The F-22s spread out and formed a barrier around the forward flank of the other jets. Eric looked up and listened as they murmured amongst themselves. Mark cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Y'all Raptors better be able shoot off more than yer mouth." He commented slyly. Eric threw his head back against the seat and laughed.

"We'll make sure to prove that when you guys are begging for our help." Came a reply.

"Sure, we'll be begging." Eric managed as he calmed down. The strike lead cleared his throat, as did (though reluctantly) Eddie, telling everyone to shut up and keep in formation

"Stargazer to flights, cleared on heading 270 to target." AWACS spoke up.

"Rampart 1-1 to flight, switch on radars. Engage threats at max range if you can, keep them from getting close to the 119s understood?" The lead F-22 ordered coolly. About fifteen "roger that" calls sounded.

"Iron Hand 1 to flight, pair up and keep low, we want the SAMs to see us first." Eddie ordered.

Eric tightened his shoulder straps a little more and looked at Mark. With a nod Mark broke right and put some space between them. Eric looked forward and sucked in a full breath of oxygen. He warmed up the ALQ-184 and looked up. A black line had formed on the horizon. Eric glanced at his ECM and at his weapons display. Still nothing he thought as he selected the proper weapon and radar mode.

The pilot pulled back on the stick a little and got a little higher to hopefully make himself more noticeable to the NLAF's radars. Sure enough the air defense personnel couldn't resist the F-21s any longer. Eric heard the ECM begin to beep. He looked from left to right as the modern buildings of Cah-Vai began to appear, seemingly growing out of the land. The Linese probably had mobile batteries sitting along the very edge of the coast.

The pilot made sure his visor was down all the way and looked at the radar display. Sure enough a green box had appeared to his front. He looked forward at the HUD and waited. Soon enough the 'shoot" indicator came up.

"Iron Hand 5, Magnum!" he called, depressing the launch button.

The big weapon dropped for a second and its powerful rocket ignited. The radar-seeker roared under Eric's left wing and soon was leaving him behind. The radar warning began to increase sharply, but Eric knew the ECM gave him a good chance of not being locked onto. He glanced back at the radar and saw the box disappear. He increased speed a little and waited for the second HARM to get any locks. Just then he got a missile warning. Slightly surprised he pulled back on the stick and released a burst of flares.

"They must have a few jamming seekers." He commented to Mark.

He rolled and saw the weapon coming right at him. Now came one of the tricky parts of Iron Hand, "dancing" with a missile. He violently rolled and dove, trying to get out of the missile's electronic eyes. The HQ-16 shot overhead and exploded behind. Eric felt himself vibrate a little but kept himself steady. Another box had appeared on radar. With a second push the heaviest weapons on his plane were now gone. He went to full afterburner and pulled back on the stick. Mark fired off his two HARMs and followed.

The Raptors had already pushed far ahead to secure a perimeter around the city. Eric rolled so he could fully see Cah-Vai and watched as tracers floated up from the port areas like lines of ants. The Linese were really giving them a greeting.

Eric and Mark stayed over the water to avoid getting jumped by an AA gun or SAM with little room to dodge. He glanced around and heard his ECM begin to beep. He spotted an AA site planted on a stretch of road, all guns blazing away.

"Climb Tex, climb!" Eric called as the tracers came at them.

"Roger that!" Mark drawled as he pulled back the stick and followed. Aren't these fucking jammers gonna help us at all? the farm boy cursed in thought. The weapons, Type 95s, were still shooting, each one's four barrels flashing like cameras. He began to circle along with Eric, staying at 7000 feet (well above the guns' range).

"Okay Saber, cover Me, Iron Hand 6 is off." He called, looking forward and selecting his CBUs.

"Roger that." Eric replied.

Mark climbed even more, tightening his legs against the G-forces nearly pushed him INTO his seat. He rolled and pulled back on the control stick, topping off at 12000 feet. Wings swept all the way forward he came down at the AA guns far below. The F-21 was now like dive bomber of the 1940s, screaming earthwards at full speed. Mark hit 9000 feet and released one cluster bomb. He then pulled back the stick and made haste out of the dive. The green weapon went on and at a preprogram altitude shattered open, flinging smaller "bomblets" off in all directions.

Eric was circling above the AA site like a vulture, hoping to keep the Type 95s interested. He then saw multiple explosions popped off all over the AA site. The blonde whistled.

"Direct hit Tex." He reported.

"Roger." Mark replied as he leveled out at 7000 feet again. The two Thunderhawks formed back up and looked for more targets. The F-119s were already in the midst of the fight too, dropping their GBU-12 Paveways on Linese supply ships and harbor facilities. Just then a call came over the radio.

"Rampart 1-4, I see em! Rampart 1-3, stay close!"

"Rampart 2-2 has VID on multiple Flankers approaching from heading 016."

"Fox 3, Fox 3."

"Looks like the Air Force boys get their wish granted." Mark spoke up.

The two F-21s headed towards the west part of the harbor. Eddie's F-21 passed overhead, another AA site burning in the Operations Officer's wake.

"Iron Hand to flight, the Avengers are preparing to egress, take up formation so we can get em east towards international waters." He called.

The F-21s came around and flew in the direction, F-119s in tow. Osea had just made it very clear they'd intended to support the South, until the end…


	14. Chapter 13: Like Father, Like Son

_Chp. 13: Like Father, Like Son_

_October 6, 2024_

_OFS Excalibur_

"Okay so we bagged about six SAM sites on egress. About four of the fourteen that shot at us must've had jammer-seekers." Eddie explained as the six pilots debriefed with McGavin and Newport.

"They look like Type 10s from this angle." Newport said, examining a photo taken by the BDA (Battle Damage Assessment) flight afterwards. He handed it to the commander.

"Seems like that was the biggest threat?" he asked.

"Yes sir, beyond that was mostly Type 95s with short range SAMs and guns, and due to the high buildings towards downtown most of them were in open areas away from civilian centers." Eddie went on.

"Yeah, and if we stayed up high they couldn't really touch us sir." Eric added.

"I'm assuming that the Air Force CAP kept the NLAF at bay?" he asked.

"Yes sir, I have to admit they're what let us get in and out like we did." Eddie nodded.

The flight was dismissed soon after.

"I swear sir, y'all should've heard those 22s when the NLAF showed up…" Mark said.

"…Don't let em get away!" he went on, laughing right after.

"If I remember someone let out a yeehaw after he got a gun kill." The Hispanic pilot replied. Mark quieted as the Operations officer grinned.

"Ah he's a Cowboy, he's allowed to." Eric quipped, giving his friend a punch on the arm and noting that he was wearing the black hat.

"Why do you let Sarah make you where that thing?" Eric asked. Mark shrugged as they walked through a door.

"Guess it just fits my persona."

Eddie laughed.

"I'll drink to that." He agreed.

"As long as yer buyin sir." Mark drawled.

Eddie went to his room for some rest while Eric and Mark proceeded to the wardroom. DJ was there too at the usual table.

"So have you guys thought about it?" he asked. Mark swallowed a bite of his steak.

"About what DJ?" he drawled.

"Yeah, pulling Iron Hand?" Eric added, trying to guess what he was asking about. The black pilot shook his head.

"What you're gonna do after the war." He clarified.

"Come on I'm just concerned about surviving right now." Eric replied.

"Well it doesn't hurt to think a little about it, I mean Tex you're gonna marry Sarah right?" he reasoned. The man nodded.

"What about y'all DJ? Might as well show yer serious about this by showing us you gave it some thought." Mark went on. His tone suggested he was tired from the last raid (especially his dive-bombing of one of the AA sites).

"I plan on looking for a woman myself." He beamed.

"Good luck with that." Eric replied. DJ looked at him.

"I'm serious, I see how happy Sarah makes Tex here, and I decided that's what I need to do or else I'm gonna become a bitter old man." The pilot explained.

"Wow you are serious." Eric said, surprised.

"And what about y'all Eric? It ain't gonna be easy what yah plan to do." Mark made clear. Eric nodded and sobered up.

"Doing hard stuff is in the job." He remarked.

"Do y'all have an idea what exactly yer gonna do?" Mark went on. Eric felt his friend really pressing him. He was about to reply when he fell silent

"No, no I don't." he sighed, realizing sending the letter he had to Misaki had been fueled by "spur of the moment" energy. DJ looked at them both.

"Y'all are gonna need one." Mark made clear. Eric nodded in total understanding…

"Ronin Flight, feet dry."

Eric adjusted a little as the six F-21s crossed over a more mountainous part of the coast. The Linese couldn't cover every single inch of their land with AA guns or SAMs he thought with a hint of a grin.

"Roger that Ronin, proceed on heading 195 to target." Their supporting Pelican replied.

"Okay Ronin, spread out a little so we can cover more ground, wedge formation." Vixen ordered. Eric looked at DJ, who gave him the signal to spilt off and do as Vixen had ordered.

On this rainy afternoon the six Thunderhawks were cruising at 12000 feet and in front of a strike force of F-35s bound for In-Na airbase. The strikers flew lower, just above the clouds. The F-21s were high up to draw any attention that came towards them.

Eric looked both ways again, something that was becoming almost a nervous habit for him. He glanced at his radar too. Hopefully the South Linese F-16s that'd been promised would show, but then again most of the country's air force (or rather the part that hadn't been already destroyed) was in the far south holding onto South Cholina's shrinking borders.

"Heads up, AA radars." Vixen reported. Eric heard his ECM beep to life. He glanced at the radar and saw a few green squares.

"Looks like Iron Hand missed a few." Mark commented. With the pace of the war, there hadn't been much time to take care of the country's air defense network. Which meant Iron Hand was either flown during or before a strike.

"At least we've got Growlers." Eric replied.

The ECM increased as a few missiles got sent up, though to no one in particular. The Linese were just trying to shake their nerves by firing without lock, make them wonder where the weapons would come up, a normal tactic by now.

Eric watched as a HQ-16 pierced the clouds to the left. It continued upwards like an OSA rocket.

"Coliseum 301 to flight, increase altitude to avoid the SAMs." The lead F-35 (and mission commander) instructed.

"Coliseum 301 we'll break off a pair from the CAP to keep you covered how copy?" Vixen radioed.

"We'd appreciate it 202." The commander of VFA-149 replied.

Vixen took Mark with her and slid up and back into an overwatch position for the eight F-35s (and the other F-21s). Eric DJ, along with Snow and Malloy, formed an arrowhead in front of the strike force. Minutes later came the

"Okay we've reached IP, Coliseum Flight break and descend." The lead F-35 ordered. As they did so the radio crackled.

"Coliseum this is Bolo 1, flight of four from the South, we've got you on radar." A voice spoke up. It was the Linese F-16s

Eric felt himself getting excited again. His dad's fifth kill had been during a raid on an airfield, maybe he'd get a chance too. Suddenly his ECM came to life again, telling him that enemy radars were again transmitting, these ones airborne. He looked around and saw a pair of gray flashes below. He squinted his eyes and spotted two J-11s skimming along the clouds, running away from him.

"Tallyho DJ, two Flankers at two low, heading away from us." Eric called.

"Roger that, ma'am." His friend replied.

"Cleared to push." She ordered. The two were now free to engage the pair of Flankers.

DJ dropped his tank and descended first. Eric did the same, keeping himself behind his friend to watch his tail. The Linese pilots seemed oblivious to the Oseans coming down from above, continuing onwards to the west. Eric was a little disappointed that the NLAF wasn't as fiery as it usually was. Oh well he thought, still excited his fifth kill lie in wait.

Eric went to Single Target Track and selected the rear J-11 for an AMRAAM shot. The TDD box appeared and the radar did its work. The J-11s reacted for the first time, descending below the clouds.

"Okay I've got the lead guy Saber." DJ called. Eric nodded.

"Trailer's mine." He agreed.

The rest of the flight went ahead while the two dropped down and after the bandits. Eric kept an eye on his altimeter as they were enveloped by gray. Just below it was clear. Eric went down even further and below the clouds. The J-11s were still there, now low and heading towards the air base.

Eric lifted up his visor with the lack of sunlight and tightened his grip on the stick. The two F-21s went below the clouds and after the Flankers. The Linese pilots had gained some headway on the two Oseans. The two went full afterburner in pursuit. The TD box formed around Eric's fifth kill when suddenly DJ called out.

"Two more right behind us!"

Eric looked over his shoulder to see another pair of J-11s trailing behind. But without radar how could they…Eric remembered the IRST on the J-11's nose and grimaced. Clever bastards he thought.

Each jet shot off an AA-11 Archer and Eric and DJ instinctively broke into one another, passing by feet from one another in full afterburner. Eric felt his plane vibrate from the maneuver and looked back to see the heat seeker still in pursuit. He barrel rolled, scattering flares about as he did so. The heat seeker was duped and flew out in front of Eric harmlessly. He broke away and dove down to try and get back towards his attacker. The Flanker turned towards him to deny the Osean any chance of getting out of the defensive. As Eric came around they passed like DJ and him had earlier. Eric looked up and saw the enemy pilot looking down at him, visor raised like the a sort of way Eric challenged the pilot to a one-on-one duel and vice versa. The Flanker was ahead of him for a minute then they were even again as they turned back at one another.

Eric chose his Sidewinders for the closer range and turned back towards the J-11. The flat rolling scissors began to form as they passed again, each trying to get a good angle for a missile shot. Eric watched his adversary slid under him this time. The J-11 began to turn back into him and then went up, popping his speed brakes. As tracers began to flash above by Eric broke right and as the Flanker turned he went to the left towards the airfield. Just the radio came to life

"Okay Saber almost lost vis but I see you know, think you can get that J-11 to go where I want him?" Lynn spoke up. Eric looked around but couldn't see his XO, but he knew "The Vixen" kept her promises.

"Roger that ma'am!" he assured.

The airfield was its own center of action as well. F-35s and F-16s came from every angle like sword slashes, lines of tracers swaying like grass after them. Eric saw an F-35 shoot by below, wing trailing smoke. The pilot reported he was going home.

"Okay Saber, pull up and break right, he's mine!" Lynn ordered.

Eric pulled back on the stick and banked right. the J-11, going for another lock (as indicated by the ECM), turned after him. Eric noticed a third jet and saw Ronin 202 going at the Flanker from low altitude. With a Fox 3 call she sent an AMRAAM up from 2000 feet. Eric looked in his mirrors and saw the weapon spear the Linese machine in the belly. The front of the plan folded down and went tumbling below Eric, various other pieces scattering from the black puff suspended 10000 feet above In-Na.

"You owe me one Saber." Lynn called, almost melodiously. Eric chuckled.

"Roger that ma'am, whiskey right?" he replied.

"Damn straight."

Eric turned towards the airfield, guessing DJ would be there. As he passed over the target he noticed objects to his right. Four jets, two F-16s and two J-11s, were in a "Tom and Jerry" chase. One F-16 out front, followed by a J-11, that one followed by a second F-16, and a second J-11 at the end. Each one, apparently too close for heat seekers, was firing its cannon while trying to avoid the guy behind him. Eric rolled inverted and dove down to assist the beleaguered Falcons. He saw one begin to fall away, fatally wounded, and felt an extra push to help.

"Falcon in pursuit of a J-11, break right and cease chasing that guy or his friend's gonna get you!" Eric ordered.

"Bolo 1 roger." The pilot replied.

The F-16 left the fight, the J-11 in front of Eric. The Osean went for Sidewinder lock against his foe, and the Flanker responded by giving up on the F-16, allowing the South Linese machine to go back after his prey that was still running.

The Flanker broke hard to take Eric's missile lock from him. Eric let up on the throttle and gave some distance to nullify the maneuver. The Flanker rolled downwards. Eric did the same, trying to stay with the more nimble jet. The pursuit turned into a game of chicken as the Flanker and Thunderhawk went towards the deck at near Mach 1. The Flanker lost his nerve for a second and leveled out maybe 1000 feet above the ground. Eric did the same just below him. He felt sweat pool under his chin as the trees and low hills flashed by. He pulled up and saw the J-11 clawing for altitude. Eric instinctively followed after.

"Come on you bastard, make a mistake…" he coaxed.

Eric saw his opponent was making a beeline for the clouds. Radar or not the Flanker could easily lose him and then turn the tables. Eric watched as his AIM-9 singled out the two tailpipes.

"Ronin 208, Fox 2." He called almost frantically.

The missile tracked towards the Flanker and the pilot abandoned his retreat in lieu of new circumstances. The machine dove back towards the earth. Eric's wish had been granted. He banked back earthwards and followed the Linese pilot, another Sidewinder ready the Flanker had nowhere to run and even if he did Eric was determined to deny him that soon after he reached for it. With gritted teeth he let loose the AIM-9, forgetting to make his call until the weapon was halfway to the target.

"Ronin 208, Fox 2!"

He pulled up and saw a flash his eyes focused on a black puff and he saw the J-11 breaking apart. A second later he realized that was his fifth kill tumbling earthwards. In that moment he felt like his dad was watching in approval. Eric grinned and leveled out, soon after turning to find the others…

Mark waited for the engines to power down as he moved towards his friend's jet, bottle of champagne in his hand. The canopy came up soon after and cheers began to erupt. A circle was formed around the bottom of the boarding steps and VF-138's newest ace emerged. He reached the bottom of the steps and was immediately attacked by sprays of champagne by Mark and DJ. He tried to bat away the tradition but was too busy laughing. The bottles of liquid lost their fizz and Mark held out what remained in his.

"Just what I needed!" Eric shouted, taking a swig.

"Fuckin A Saber, fuckin A!" Mark replied with a grin.

Eric chugged the rest of the alcohol. Unbeknownst to him, a photomate from the PR department took a picture of him in the act to commemorate the event. Then with his consent another was taken of him, Commander McGavin and Captain Harrison, just as his dad had done in 1995.


	15. Chapter 14: Semper Fi

**_Author's Note: For those of you who're more well-versed in land warfare, you'll have to forgive a few small errors that may be present in these chapters_**

_Chp. 14: Semper Fi_

_October 15, 2024_

_OFS Oured_

Dear Eric,

It's been days since this war started, and even longer singe we've been put out to sea. Finally orders came down a few days ago to prepare to make a landing. Soon after we were given a briefing about Cholina as well as the operation we were gonna carry out. Unlike the officers though we didn't get many details other than what to expect when we lock horns with the NLA. I'm like dad right now, eager to use my training but not too fond of the possibility of dying. Jose keeps saying the best part is the girls waiting for us to "liberate" them. Anyways I really don't have much I can say without going into the arena of "cloak and dagger" business. The Gunny keeps things dress right dress and we're all tired of sitting on this boat (which makes me know how you feel sometimes when you go out on cruise). Anyways keep dropping bombs where it hurts and we'll win this war soon enough man!

Your jarhead brother,

Corporal James Bradford

_Two days later…_

"How long are we gonna sit in this thing?" Jose asked rhetorically.

James looked up at his friend as they sat inside the Marine Landing Assault Vehicle (MLAV) in the rear off-loading bay of the Oured. The 20 marines were packed shoulder to shoulder, each carrying about 70 pounds of gear (ammo, supplies, personal stuff, armor, etc).

"The less you move man the quicker we'll get out." Luke replied sarcastically. The squad's M250 gunner went quiet.

James and his friends had been waiting for this day since the start of the war. The air campaign wasn't slowing the North Linese fast enough and the South was steadily crumbling. That had been predicted and therefore this plan to land Osean MEUs was put into development much earlier, but not until it came to realization was it implemented.

The marines on foot, with the support of Air Force and Marine aircraft, would make their landing near Su-Fong, which had been taken by a North Linese airborne brigade and subsequently reinforced by heavier units. Sapin Royal Marines and Emmerian Army units would be landing north of the Oseans at two other beachheads, exemplifying the newly formed coalition to protect the UN soldiers.

James listened to the radio chatter as they waited for the order to go. He hoped he might be able to get some more idea to the specific resistance they'd be facing. The Linese probably knew they were coming, but not when.

"Gambler 3-3 I've got a vis on that WS-2 battery, how copy?"

"Roger that Thumper 2 try and knock it out if you can, don't want em hammering the main force."

"Roger Gambler."

James switched back to the predesignated frequency for the marines. There was a few seconds of silence before someone spoke. They were the only vehicles going ashore now, as the LCACs carrying larger M11A1 Bulldog MBTs would be too vulnerable.

"All call signs, all call signs, Thunder, repeat, Thunder."

The Osean's eyes widened. He looked at Luke.

"Did you hear that Brad?" he asked.

"Yeah Izzy I did, shit here we go…" he replied.

Outside the sound of heavy engines increased in amplitude. The men heard the rear ramp of the ship moving and the crews talking amongst themselves. James closed his eyes and let out an audible breath. Suddenly the MLAVs began to make sounds of movement. The cabin lurched and the machine rolled forward. James and the others looked around, trying to establish some sort of bearing as to where they were. James adjusted his helmet, moving around his light brown hair a little. Outside of the second Bradford son's perspective, the MLAVs of both the Bastok and Oured were forming into respective waves.

The MLAV turned (presumably to get around the ship) and began to go on a steady path. It swayed a little as it pushed aside the water. James looked down at his ACR and made sure he was ready to thumb off the safety as soon as they got close. Leave and move to the left, take cover and keep your sector covered he thought. Just then the radio came back to life.

"Okay marines, we need to secure the beach so, we can get our M11s ashore! The NLA has rocket artillery dug in around some foothills so be wary until close air can wax em all. Remember your training men and we'll be okay." Colonel Reiner said. He was known for making remarks like that before any type of fighting, real or not.

James looked at his friends. Jose nodded, as did Izzy. He looked at his other friends and quietly began to pray about everything he could think of. Suddenly a cry broke out over the radio.

"Incoming!"

Loud screeches sounded outside. Suddenly there was an impact and the MLAV shook. It began to rock.

"Turn on the Guard Fence, Guard Fence on!" the vehicle's commander ordered.

Another concussion rocked them around. James kept his breath under control. He could here Jose muttering under his breath. James joined him once he recognized the words.

"Yea I walk in the shadow of the valley of death…I shall fear no evil…for You are with me…" they both said.

"Thirty seconds!" the vehicle commander barked.

Up top the 30mm chaingun was blasting away at the yet to be seen Linese positions. James doubted they had heavily dug in with the little time that'd they'd occupied the area. That gave him a small drop of relief.

"Ten seconds!" the commander updated, his voice louder than it had ever been.

Suddenly there was a soft lurch and the machine's treads began to move. The MLAV came ashore and stopped, chaingun still firing

"On your feet!" Sergeant Garvin, the squad commander, ordered.

The marines stood up as the ramp began to come down. Outside the shrill whizzes and pops of bullets hitting nearby assaulted eardrums like an orchestra. There was a hiss as the MLAV's smoke launchers laid down veil of cover for the marines. Garvin waved them forward and into the open air. James went after his friends.

He did exactly as he'd trained, coming around and out to form a defensive line. One of the marines hugged the side of the machine, giving his friends covering fire. James hit the sand and aimed to the front, looking for something to shoot at. In the smoke he couldn't see anything. He switched his eyepiece to thermal. He saw small figures, colored yellow and orange through the monocle. He adjusted his position and took in a breath as he raised his weapon at the entrenched NLA troops firing down at the marines a few hundred yards away. He pulled back the trigger and sent a 6.8mm round at them. As soon as that one left he fired again. To his left Jose got the M250 Squad Support Weapon firing, but he could barely hear it over the orchestra of other weapons.

He saw one NLA soldier poke his head just a little too high and James got on him and fired two rounds. The man fell back, lacking any apparent control of his fall. James opened both eyes and let out a breath.

"Move up! Don't get pinned down near the MLAV! Move up!" Garvin shouted over the radio.

"Where Sarge?" Izzy replied.

"Get to that dune to our front! Now!" the man replied.

James pushed himself up and moved forward. Bullets slapped the wet sand all around. Above the sky was grey and bleak. Osean high command seemed to like this kind of weather for landings (Hin-Mah in Songola, the Bastok Peninsula in Yuktobania). Farther forward dozens of muzzle flashes, so many James almost stopped in awe, came from the low hills and small cliffs to their front.

"Come on Brad!" Izzy shouted, already laying among the small dunes. James ran as fast as he could and threw himself down next to the others in his squad.

He looked back and saw the MLAVs retreating. Some had been hit as they'd come ashore, now charred and blackened wrecks. A few others had been destroyed in the water, but these had been pulled beneath the waves, their fate indicated only by black smoke rising above the water before the fires and explosions cut off their stream.

"Where the fuck is our air support?!" Jose spat as a few mortars rounds landed behind them.

"How should I know?" James replied over the gunfire. He craned his head a little so he might be able to see the NLA troops they'd fired at earlier. Just then he heard a low roar from above and behind. He saw an Air Force A-10C Thunderbolt II fly in, a tongue of tracers coming from its 30mm gun

"There they are!" Jose laughed. The radio came to life.

"All ground elements be advised close air reports a trench system to the front that's too close for them to hit. All units proceed to clear the trenches, repeat, clear the trenches."

James, Jose and Izzy exchanged looks. Before they could voice any response amongst each other Garvin ordered Jose to provide suppressing fire. The gunner stood up on one knee and pulled back the trigger, spent casings flying off to the right. James got on his stomach and then took the same stance as Jose, firing a few rounds at any NLA soldiers that like his first opponent popped their heads up. He got back down as Jose drew too much attention and had to take cover as well.

"We can't stay here much longer Sarge!" Izzy shouted. The brown-haired squad leader looked at the redhead and then back towards the trenches. He gulped and gritted his teeth.

"Fix bayonets!" he shouted.

James reached down and took out his ACR's M9 bayonet. With the stark realization about why they were doing so he attached it and waited for further orders. He noticed an Air Force Forward Air Controller (FAC) on his radio. James hoped he was calling in some sort of bomb run to give them cover while they charged into the trench system. Another rumbled a minute later told him he was right. He looked forward and saw another F-35 go streaking by towards the base of the hills, bombs tumbling in its wake.

"Into the trench! Go, go, go!" Captain Stuart yelled over the radio.

Like the warfare of 1914-18, the men pushed themselves up and forward towards the NLA positions. The first trench line was unoccupied, and was found to be an anti-tank ditch instead. The marines jumped in as the NLA's artillery adjusted. James pulled out a grenade and peeked over the lip of the trench. A bullet whizzed by very fast and her felt it brush his helmet. In a panic he fell back and began to hyperventilate at the near death encounter. Izzy laughed.

"Close call huh?" he asked, though he too was nervous.

"Eat shit and die Izzy." James snarled, getting back on his feet. He hooked a finger around the pin and looked at Izzy. He nodded and James pulled the ring from the M69, tossing it out of the ditch and hopefully into the next one over. They tucked their chin against their chests and waited as the explosive detonated with a sort of muffled crunch. They went over the lip of the trench. James jumped down into the trench and looked left as other marines did the same. He saw one flop down, shot. It sent a shiver up his spine.

"Okay, Taylor, Bradford and Martinas, clear right. Slinger, Blackheart with me!" Garvin ordered.

Jose up front, the three marines headed towards an entrance that went deeper into the trenches. The construction of the fortifications was limited, probably because the NLA hadn't had much time to dig in. Jose poked his 250 around the corner and nodded for his friends to go forward. James went around, slightly hunched over to keep himself as little a target as possible. He saw a figure dash across the intersection ahead and fired a few shots without really aiming. An NLA soldier came around from the right, QBZ-95 at the ready. James stopped and raised his ACR and fired twice. The man fell back and James went on towards the intersection. Bullets chopped at the lip of the trench, throwing small bursts of sand onto his helmet. Jose responded to the shooters.

James took a knee close to the intersection and looked back at Izzy. He pointed to the man then the left pathway, and then to himself then the right. The redhead nodded and moved to the other side of the trench, taking out an M69. They moved up and each tossed a grenade down the next trench. With two explosions they turned their respective corners and fired. James saw two other marines at the other end of the trench and gave them a thumbs up as the last few NLA soldiers fell. They returned the gesture.

"Okay 2nd squad, on me." Garvin ordered.

James covering the rear, the three collapsed down the trench Izzy had cleared and regrouped with the others. More fire was biting at the lip. A ricochet bounced against Izzy's helmet and he tumbled forward in surprise. James, working on instinct, took a knee, Jose doing the same and firing back at the NLA troops. James flipped the guy onto his back.

"Izzy, you alright?" He asked. The redhead gave a quick shake of his head and felt where the bullet had hit.

"Fuck me that was close!" he blurted out.

The marines stayed put and stayed low as the next line of NLA troops, this line even having some entrenched Type 92 MBTs, in the hills that sat at the back of the sandy part of the beach, tried to pin them down. Two 120mm tank rounds threw up dirt over the trench. The three stayed low and rejoined the rest of the squad. The platoon FAC was nearby, shouting over the radio for some kind of air support. James was surprised air support hadn't torn up the place beforehand. He saw an AH-1 Viper from the Oured fly over, rockets streaking from its pods. Tracers arced back at it and as it pulled over the hills thick black smoke trailed from its tail.

"I repeat, we are pinned down by enemy armor, we need air support!" the FAC repeated. Another shell cut him off.

"Slinger, SMAW that Type 92 to our front!" Garvin ordered, realizing the calls were, for now, in vain.

Lance Corporal Derek Slinger took the weapon off his back and stood up, but didn't fire immediately.

"Sarge, looks like an AA gun to the tank's left!" he called out.

"Sergeant, if we can wax that our CAS will get the tank!" the FAC insisted.

Garvin nodded at Slinger, who redirected his aim and sent the 83mm rocket downrange at the Type 95. The Type 92 responded with its coaxial machine gun, forcing Slinger back to the ground.

"Now can we get some Fast Air?!" James shouted at the FAC…

The AH-1s flight had pretty much ceased for now with too much ground fire. The Marine F-35Bs were pounding away at rocket artillery and rear-echelon targets now, leaving the frontline stuff in the hands of the Air Force and its tank-buster, the A-10C Thunderbolt II, informally known as the Warthog. Just our luck that we get to do what we do best 1st Lt. Ellen Matthews thought as she looked out the cockpit of her jet as she led the other three in the flight towards the beach. The slim brunette from Bana City was quietly excited to be going into combat, especially as the lead plane in the flight.

"Hey Mongoose, yah ready?" she asked her wingman.

"You bet your ass Siren." 1st Lt. Timothy Rhodes answered as the beach was just a few seconds away.

Matthews gave the signal to split the flight and start listening for radio calls. Soon one frantic voice identifying itself as Bravo 2-1 reported that it was pinned down by NLA tanks towards the center of the beach.

"Roger that Bravo 2-1, we're coming in." the woman assured.

Matthews and Rhodes flew over the group of NLA tanks to get an idea of where they were putting their ordnance. The AA guns had been knocked out by the marines on the ground as well as one ballsy AH-1 crew, who were now floating in the ocean while the other part of the flight kept them safe. The last thing Matthews wanted was to join the marines sitting in the trenches with bullets whizzing at them, or become the first female POW of North Cholina.

"Okay Bravo 2-1. I'll need you to give me some direction here." She radioed as they ascended and circled like vultures.

"Roger, standby, we will be lasing." The Air Force FAC replied.

Matthews spilt up her flight, Blackheart 2, and kept her eye on the position Type 92 as the FAC handed her coordinates and marked his own position with an IR strobe. She'd selected her AGM-65 Mavericks and waited for the needed information, flying out to sea again so she could set up the proper firing angle.

"Okay Blackheart, target's painted." The FAC reported.

Matthews looked at her weapons panel and saw a pair of squares appear on the display. She looked at her HUD and also saw the tanks encased in a TD boxes.

"Okay, you take one I'll take the other." Matthews called.

"Roger that, Blackheart 2-2 holding in wait." Rhodes acknowledged.

Matthews dove from 8000 feet towards the Type 92s. The pilot kept her big ugly beast of a jet stable and depressed the firing button.

"Blackheart 2-1, Rifle 1!" she reported…

James watched the missile streak overhead, soon followed by another. He followed them and saw two pillars of flame leap skywards. The A-10s from which they'd come streaked over just behind, flares falling from their tails as a precautionary measure. Jose threw a fist up as they again ascended skywards, white contrails marking their paths. Captain Stuart gave the order for them to move on the tanks' positions. James gritted his teeth and followed his squadmates out of the trench towards the next NLA position. God bless A-10 pilots he thought…


	16. Chapter 15: Worlds Apart

_Chp. 15: Worlds Apart_

_October 19, 2024_

_UN Medical Camp, occupied area of South Cholina_

Misaki watched as her breath crystalized in the air, causing her to frown. I hate the cold she thought. She shivered a little and pulled the jacket tighter over her shoulders and sighed. It felt like eons since she'd come to this small village, and it was only a matter of time until the camp was discovered by the NLA. There was little doubt the UN soldiers would be shot, and what might happen to her and the doctors she couldn't help but fear.

The woman crossed her arms and stroked her short black hair, walking aimlessly through the camp. The war felt so alien to her, the only reminder the occasional jet streaking high above, the doctors below nothing to it. She wondered if any of them were Eric's jet. Misaki was worried sick about him too since the short time she had spent seeing him back in her hometown. Little news came from the security detachment commander, and one had been the attack on the Osean carrier Excalibur. Sometimes she'd cry herself asleep, begging and praying he was alive. She wanted to know he was safe, even if it was a simple word of the mouth from someone…

She bumped into another person, interrupting her deep thought. The nurse looked up to apologize and saw Dr. Horst's old face looking back at him.

"Goodness Misaki, be careful." He said.

"I'm sorry Doctor…I'm just a little troubled lately." She apologized.

"By the war?" Horst asked, continuing on. She felt herself following him.

"In a way yes, by someone in it. He's a pilot who's very important to Me." She said. He nodded. With a hint of a smile.

"Ah yes, I understand that one. The two lovers separated by war." He replied.

"When I was young and full of energy in 1994, I joined the Belkan Army for two reasons: one, because I had been fired up by the new national party and their promises to make Belka great again, and to impress a girl who went to the school I attended." He said.

"But he didn't join to impress me; he wanted to be a fighter pilot since he was young." She pointed out.

"I say that because it worked, and today the girl is my wife. When I was out there, pissing my pants alongside the other infantrymen as we invaded Ustio, she was always sending me letter about how worried she was." He explained.

"Although our current situation prevents me from talking to him, he's on an aircraft carrier." She replied.

"He sounds very important to you Misaki." Horst pointed out. Jeez, I'm just gonna tell my romantic life to everyone here aren't I she thought with a sigh.

"He is Doctor, but I'd prefer that not everyone know about my love life and things of that nature." She answered.

"If you want for it to be then I shall respect it." The old man laughed, not too curious about the subject anyways. They walked on towards the tents.

"So what do you think Doctor? I know the Captain's always assuring us we'll be okay, but I'm still nervous." Misaki spoke up.

"I can understand that, I am a veteran Misaki, so it doesn't bother me as much, but remember we're a simple humanitarian station, we possess no military capabilities except for security provided by Captain Holt and his men." The Belkan said. Misaki nodded and sighed.

"I still don't like the idea of being stuck out here in the middle of occupied territory though."

With that she left Dr. Horst and went inside the tent she slept in. June was inside too, like her not having to be ready to give medical assistance right now (though they really hadn't needed to for a few days). She looked at her friend and flashed a tired smile. Misaki took off her jacket and sat down, taking off her work boots as well now that she was in the warmth of the tent

"The second we get back to safety I'm going to go to a beach and enjoy myself in the sun and just forget about all this." The woman declared.

"I'll join in on that." Misaki replied. Her friend laughed. Misaki laid back on the cot and sighed, trying to pretend it was a beach chair as she closed her eyes…

The first indications that the Yuktobanians were coming was the lights outside going off, and the slow but distinct wailing of the air raid siren reaching Misaki's ears. She let out a groan and opened her eyes, stretching. She climbed out of bed and straightened the t-shirt and track shorts. There was a knock at the door.

"Are you decent Misaki?" Eric called from outside.

"Yeah, you can come in Eric." She said, turning on her lamp.

The Osean came in, dressed in shorts and a black undershirt, M1 carbine in hand. He walked over to the window and looked through the blinds.

"Looks like the SDF's getting its jets airborne already." Eric said. Misaki looked out with him and saw small lights in this distance, towards NAS Shiatami.

"Come on you two let's get to the basement." Miss Bradford told the two teenagers.

They looked at Eric's mom and followed her downstairs. Eric took the lead with the carbine and aimed it towards the door as his mom and Misaki's aunt, Keiko, his mom and of course his short-haired friend went into the basement. Eric took a knee and watched the door as he usually did.

"I'll give you guys an all clear when the Yukes get driven off." Eric said to the others.

"Just be careful Eric." His mother reminded him. He nodded and smiled confidentially.

"I will mom."

Eric closed the door and kept his eyes towards the door, taking up position near the entranceway to the cafe. The fear of any sort of invasion was always present, and the young man of 14 years wanted to know the moment it came (should that happen). He stayed here because if he hid downstairs the others would be at risk should he have to fire. That and they'd move on without bothering to search (hopefully) if they shot at him and "killed him".

He could hear the sound of jet engines and the occasional missile rocket motor. His eyes had adjusted to the dark with some help from the moonlight. He sat ready behind the counter, the safety of the carbine off.

Suddenly he heard a door knob moving somewhere behind. He looked back, in partial shock that he might be about to face what he feared. He raised the weapon and as a figure approached noticed it was Misaki.

"Misaki, what in the hell? I almost shot you!" he said quietly but sharply.

He noticed her frown and soon knew he was in trouble for something. She went behind the counter and hid near him as the shriek of jet engines came over lower than usual. Eric looked towards the door and when the jet kept going relaxed. He looked at Misaki with arched eyebrows.

"You need to stop doing this lone-wolf guardian stuff." Misaki scolded. Eric just stared at her.

"That's what you came up to tell me?" he asked.

"Yes, now come on." She replied, tugging on his sleeve.

"Listen, if the Yukes land they're gonna be looking through the town, and I'm not about to become a citizen of the Peoples Union of Shimoji or something like that." Eric replied firmly. Misaki sighed and shook her head.

"Eric you worry your mom to death when you do this." She insisted, seeing that the usual chewing out wouldn't help much this time.

"I know Misaki, but I'd rather have her worry than feel like she's unsafe." Eric reasoned. Misaki sighed and looked at him.

"Fine, then at least let me stay up here too…" she flushed. Eric's eyes widened at the sudden change in attitude and expression. Why did she want to stay up here and listen to SDF F-15s and whatever Sukhois or MiGs the YAF had escorting the bombers?

"…So I don't have to be so worried about you either." She finished. He flushed as she was doing. They sat their quietly in the dark enjoying each other's company in the same manner. Suddenly a thundering rattle startled them both. Misaki yelped and jumped. Eric, deciding it would at least keep her calm, put an arm around her. She flinched. So that's how you want it huh she thought. To "get back" at him she rested her head against his. He flinched and moved his eyes towards her. She played innocent and scooted closer.

"I think I feel safer up here with you Eric." She said…

Misaki's dreams of Eric slowly began to shift. Things became blurry for her as she shifted in her sleep and subconscious time began to speed up. Eric's father was declared KIA two weeks after that night. He slipped into anger and depression about the event, much to his mother (and Misaki's) dismay. One thing any person learned too was when things like this happened; they rarely went to their parents first. Misaki and Eric, both having lost parents (the Shimoji girl her mother) began to more deeply confide in one another…

"Eric?" Misaki spoke up. The Osean glanced over at her as they two ate lunch near the school track.

"Yeah Misaki?" he replied. She sighed, unsure if she should touch the subject, but curiosity got the better of her

"Why do you want this so bad? The academy and a pilot's slot?" she asked, almost blurting out the question. But instead of getting angry Eric sat up straight.

"…Cause I'm obligated to, at least that's how I feel…" he replied.

"Obligated to? But it's not like you're gonna get conscripted." Misaki replied. Her boyfriend shook his head.

"No not like that Misaki, like, I feel a personal obligation to it." He replied. She nodded, understanding things a little more now.

"You mean, you want to protect others or something like that?" she asked, taking his hand. He nodded.

"Exactly, like my mom, my little brother, and you." He replied. She smiled and hugged him.

"Good boy." She said. She sighed solemnly and sat in his lap, nuzzling her head under his chin.

"I'm going to miss you Eric…" she said.

"I'm going to miss you too Misaki…" he replied.

He grimaced at how this relationship was ending because her father disapproved of Eric's choice to be a soldier. Bastard the Osean thought sourly.

"Eric…I don't want you to leave." Misaki added quietly. She pulled away and looked at him, her green eyes a little watery.

"I mean, I know I said I'd accepted what you want to do, but I still wish you'd stay with me." She said in a motherly way. Eric sighed.

"I know how it is Misaki…I just wish I could be able to come back to you after I'm done…" he said softly.

"Then why don't you?" she said, her face becoming serious, determined. Eric tilted his head at her.

"My father can't make my decisions for me forever Eric. I'm not going to let him tell me who I can't love because of some stupid dogma he has." She declared, kissing him soon after.

"I love you Eric, and I'm able to understand why you want what you want…" The young Shimoji woman smiled. She kissed him again.

"…But don't forget I still have things I want too."

"I know Misaki, I know…" Eric nodded understandingly…

How long had it been since that promise had been made? Misaki thought subconsciously. Ten Years? It'd felt like eons since she'd last seen him in that manner. Their meeting in Hikura had been too short, almost like she'd hallucinated about seeing him. He was probably still aboard the Excalibur, hopefully thinking about her like she was him. Her dreams replaying of memories began to fade into a sort of blank space with no defined size where she simply sat, thinking.

"You're pretty quiet Misaki." A voice spoke up. She flinched and looked to see Eric standing next to her, looking as he had in Hikura. Without a second word she glomped him.

"Dammit Eric don't sneak up on me like that!" she scolded despite her joy.

"But it's fun." Eric protested, pretending like he felt guilty.

"What am I gonna do with you?" she asked herself as he returned her embrace.

"I missed you." He replied.

"I missed you too." She said. Hopefully this part of her dream would last a while…

Lieutenant Shi Wei and his wingman Lieutenant Xian left their centerline drop tanks to bury themselves in the woodlands as they pressed south in their

JH-7B Leopards just a few hundred meters above South Cholina. The flight had been split by a group of Emmerian F/A-18F Super Hornets, and the escorting J-10s had been drawn off from escort to attack the enemy fighters. Now instead of attacking their intended target the two strike jets were on their own on what to deliver their weapons against.

Wei's head constantly kept on a swivel. They were still far from the frontlines but there was always the possibility of Special Forces Teams (a small but highly valuable target) along with UN and South Linese forces that may have been trapped behind enemy lines. Either way he felt the need to hit something out of professional pride.

His head looked straight forward and he noticed two clearings to the left of some small mountains.

"Lóng 2, this is Lóng 1, I've spotted a potential enemy encampment to our front. Break off and circle while I get a visual confirmation." He radioed.

"Understood Lóng 1." Xian replied.

Wei glanced in his rearview mirrors as the other JH-7 broke away and climbed. He looked at his Weapons Officer, Zao.

"I'll make our pass relatively slow so you can get a good eye on what's down there." He outlined.

"I understand." Zao said.

The pilot tilted his aircraft to the right a little and came in at about 92 meters above the ground in normal power. Speed was his major concern. They needed to go by fast enough to avoid being shot at, but slow enough to see what was going on.

"Okay the one closest to the mountain is a village…the other is tents…wait…I see blue helmets, UN forces among the tents!" he called.

"Okay Lóng 2, make your runs at the clearing farthest from the mountains, we want to avoid killing civilians. Guns only too, no need to use unnecessarily excessive force." Wei ordered…

"Misaki!, Misaki get up!"

The woman's voice interrupted Misaki's thoughts as she and Eric stood there. She looked around and suddenly felt herself being shaken.

"Come on, get up!" June shouted. The Shimoji woman opened her eyes and saw her friend over her.

"Finally, come on we have to get out of here!" she said, grabbing Misaki and pulling her to her feet.

Outside Misaki heard shouting, cut off by a loud thumping. June and her ran outside as the scream of jet engines flew over low and fast. Misaki's head swiveled to see a fighter jet ascending back into the sky. She was shaken again, this time by Captain Holt. He pointed towards the woods, Assault Rifle in his other hand

"Get to the tree line! Now!" he ordered. Misaki nodded absentmindedly and began to run.

The jet was making another pass, or were there two of them? The UN soldiers behind her fired their weapons and one raised a portable missile at the approaching jet. The trees seemed so far. Suddenly the thumping noise came again. Misaki saw dirt flying up towards her and June. She still was far from safety. Was this the end for her? She thought.

"Make sure you marry that pilot after this!" June said as she shoved Misaki forward.

Misaki couldn't get out any words in protest as she tumbled forwards into the wooded areas, the ground behind her being thrown upwards violently. The woman slowed and stopped as the jet screamed away again. The UN soldier got a missile after it, signified by the sound of a rocket shooting away. She looked back and saw a crumpled figure lying in the dirt.

"June!" she shouted, getting back up and running back towards her.

"No!" Doctor Halon shouted, having made it too. He grabbed the woman and held her back.

"There's nothing we can do Misaki!" he shouted.

"Let me go!" I have to help her!" Misaki protested, tears streaking down her eyes. She squirmed but her colleague kept her from moving.

"Misaki if you go out there you'll die to!" he shouted. She finally tired herself out and stayed still, tears still flowing down her face.

The jet noise (enough suggesting there was two) faded away. Captain Holt, along with what few troops had survived the ordeal, came out from their positions and where they'd taken cover and motioned for the doctors and nurses to come out from hiding. Misaki ran to June and looked down at her friend, well what was left of her. There was a large hole in her back, the damage around it grotesque, she may have even been cut in half. She was face down, cold and unmoving. Misaki touched June's dirty hair and closed her eyes. She opened them again and looked at the ruins of the camp.

"What should we do now?' she asked rhetorically.

"For now our only place for shelter is the village, Dr. Horst, get everyone down there, me and my men will clean up things here and scavenge whatever we can." The Ustian man said.

"Do you think we can go on much longer?" Halon asked the soldier.

"Those people have survived out here without modern technology for decades, I'm sure we can too." Holt replied.


	17. Chapter 16: The Sword

**_Author's Note: Han's sort of late entry into things was the result of not really being able to find a good place to introduce him since I wanted to make a character without any real deep family situation (something I seem to do a lot). As for their launch calls since the Fox system is a NATO/Western-type code, I decided to try something different. I also toned down theF-22's stealth a small bit (aiming more for how it works in the games) for plot purposes._**

_Chp. 16: The Sword_

_October 20, 2024_

_Fan-San Air Base, Peoples Unified Republic of Cholina_

The cloudy morning stubbornly hung around the PLACAF base, almost like an artificial dome over the facility. Though Captain Han Dao-Chong knew the clearer skies would come, he liked the calm feeling right now. It wasn't good to be wound up and edgy all the time. It also helped him practice Tai-Chi effectively. The Linese fighter pilot, having recently turned 30 years old, moved without word, His brown eyes locked towards the southern fence of the base. He slowly took his final position of the exercise and then relaxed. He had a briefing to attend soon.

Han walked to the nearest building, the barracks. Many of the pilots were required to stay there since they could be needed at any time, even though they homes were for the most part rather close. The name of the structure and the unit that it belonged to, the 51st Fighter Squadron, hung above the door in black letters. He turned the knob and pushed open the door, walking down to the lounge. Other pilots sat around the space, talking about their most recent exploits against the Western coalition trying to stop reunification of the two Cholinas. The situation was mixed right now, with both sides taking losses.

"Good morning Han, back from Tai Chi so soon?" a familiar voice asked. The man looked at his friend and often wingman, First Lieutenant Chen Tao.

"I never finish early Chen, you know that." Han replied, stroking his oily black hair and looking at the map of the warzone.

"The Oseans have moved their carriers further south to make it harder for us to attack." Chen commented, pointing at two ship markers.

"They're valuable assets but the Oseans value them too much." Han replied. Chen looked at him.

"You think so?" the pilot with less disciplined hair asked.

"Remember the Circum-Pacific War? They took all their carriers and tried to hide them in their inland sea." Han scoffed. Chen nodded and looked back at the map.

Han glanced at the carriers again. He'd had yet to face any Oseans. For the most part it'd been Ustian and Emmerian Jets, and not the head of the opposition Osea that they'd faced. Sure the superpower was giving more than its share, but Han and the 51st hadn't been allowed to go at them yet. Chen took one last look at the map and let out a breath.

"We'd better get to the briefing room before the Major shows up Han." He said. The man nodded and they followed the other pilots out of the room, going down a hall to the room where they'd receive their briefing from the squadron commander, Major Hao Fai. The man, as always, was not present in the room until just before he'd told his men to be in their seats. He liked to reprimand anyone who thought he could slip in late right behind him. Han and Chen sat in their assigned seats near the front, being two of Major Fai's more experienced fliers. The other men came in soon after, reflecting the high discipline that was to be expected of the PLACAF. The Executive Officer, Senior Captain Fu He-Ping, snapped to attention and gave the order for the men to stand in respect to the Major, who came down the center aisle walking with a purpose. He took over authority from the Captain and looked at his men.

"Gentlemen, as you know we are working hard to secure the South under our flag and reunify, but the Oseans and their allies wish otherwise by meddling in this affair as they usually do, calling their coalition one of liberation." He said, holding a wooden pointer in hand. He was known for being rather supportive of the party's ideals.

"Our mission today centers around alert rotation to protect vital assets from air attack. We will be working alongside the 43rd Fighter Squadron and Airborne Early Warning aircraft to protect industrial facilities in our district from air attack. Intelligence, though they haven't confirmed it, believes these targets will be attacked sooner or later due to their value." He began, getting to the details.

"I cannot confirm what kind of aircraft you may encounter in this situation, since we do not know when or how the enemy may attack. However, I trust that you can adapt to whatever situation may unfold." He went on, pointing at the industrial complexes.

"What kind of air defenses do the facilities have protecting them sir?" Chen asked.

"Due to the need for material in the south they have only a few mobile SAMs and AA guns manned by homeland guards. Off the record, do not rely on them completely…" the commander replied. He returned attention to the map.

"We will have three pairs airborne with one on standby just short of the runway and the remaining four jets standing by in reserve. The payload on each jet will be the standard one for air defense. Our AEW plane will be designated as Scholar. Any further questions?" the Major finished. There was nothing to ask about. The pilots would have to wait and see when and what would come at them.

"Very well, retrieve your gear and report to your aircraft gentlemen." He instructed…

Han walked towards his J-11B, known as a Flanker to Western pilots, and glanced at the missiles hanging from its wings. Two short range AA-11 Archers hung from the tips of the wings, and six AA-12 Adders hung on wing pylons and the fuselage pylons. He grinned, always impressed with the J-11's fearsome shape and presence.

"Maybe today you'll make ace eh Han?" Chen spoke up.

"I plan on it." He nodded confidentially. Chen laughed and flashed a challenging smile to his friend.

"First one buys." He proposed, stroking his long black hair.

"Only if it's the expensive stuff." Han said.

Chen nodded and spilt off towards his own jet. Han took his helmet and fixed it atop his head. The crewmen, clad in their tan work uniforms, scrambled around the machine, giving it its final checks before Han did.

"Well?" he asked the crew chief, Chin.

"She's ready sir, we managed to get the flare dispenser working again." The older man replied.

Han nodded in satisfaction and walked forward towards the aircraft, number 332. It was his personal jet, the man's name inscribed below the cockpit itself. Han walked forward to inspect the plane and personally ensure he could fight to his fullest when he got airborne. He moved quickly, not wasting any time before he came around to the left side of Fighter 332 and climbed up the boarding ladder. His eyes glanced briefly at the three black X marks painted below the front cockpit. He hoped to add to that tally by days end. He slid down onto the ejection seat and the crew pulled away the ladder before he brought the machine to life. Han pulled down the canopy and secured his oxygen mask to his helmet. His WS-10A turbofans now in steady motion and wheel chocks gone, Han was directed forward along with the other fighters being launched towards the runway.

"All Serpents, radio check." Major Fai ordered. Each pilot replied with a short and simple "check" .

Chen followed behind Han and swung around to his right side as the runway widened. Han glanced at his friend for a moment, who held up the victory sign. Han returned it and held short of the runway as the Major and his wingman lined up to takeoff.

"Serpents 3 and 7, you are cleared to taxi onto runway 3-A, stand short until Serpents 1 and 6 have gotten clear of the pattern." The base tower ordered.

Han lowered his visor and smoothly pushed the throttles forward. The J-11 rolled onto the runway, Chen's right behind him.

"Serpent 3 an 7 standing by." Han reported.

"Winds proceeding on vector 270 at 12 kph, cleared to launch." The tower replied.

"Let's go get some." Chen commented.

Han pushed the throttle forward and felt his Flanker lurch down the runway. Under his mask a small grin formed on his lips as he went flying down the concrete towards flight speed. He looked at his speed.

260 kph…270 kph…280…

At 289 kilometers per hour he pulled the stick back. The Flanker's tires left the ground and the fighter leaped into the morning sky, engines screeching as they power its climb.

"Serpent 3 is airborne." He reported.

Chen still in tight formation Han banked right and came around so he was facing northwards. He leveled out and flew up to 1520 meters, landing gear secured and away. Han glanced down at the displays again. Everything ran smoothly and as it was designed to. Han reached down and toggled up the master arm switch. The weapons display came to life and Han selected his AA-12s.

The flight towards their assigned sectors was as quiet and boring as it always was with not so much as a sentence from everyone in light of strict radio silence. Their sector, containing the industrial facilities An Mi-Fan and Leng. The places were among the hills with SAM sites covering various approaches from surrounding slopes.

"Serpent 3 and 7, break formation and proceed to predesignated area." Fai ordered.

Han looked at Chen and nodded. His friend returned the motion and Han slid in front of Chen and continued to the right. His friend followed soon after and reassumed position on Han's right wing.

"Serpent flight this is Scholar, we have a clear read of the area and report no contacts at the moment." Another voice spoke up.

"Roger that Scholar, all Serpents report status." Fai replied.

"Serpents 3 and 7 are at predesignated area to begin patrol." Han reported.

"Serpents 5 and 12 are also in position sir." The other flight, made up of Captain Zhou Peng and Junior Lieutenant Wan Shi-Fei, reported.

"Roger that, all aircraft re-implement radio silence and listen for any orders from Scholar." The Major ordered.

The two fighters drifted through the sky, almost like they were clouds themselves. Han didn't like the silence. It irritated him, not being able to do anything but wait for the Allies to come into view (if they chose to attack)…

"Serpent Flight be advised, we have detected potentially hostile aircraft on the edge of our radar cover. Stand by for confirmation." The KJ-2000 reported.

"Understood Scholar, all pairs assume combat spread." Fai ordered.

Han activated his radar and glanced at the screen. The N001VE (AESA upgrade) radar was working just fine. But not a single blip at the moment he thought.

"Scholar do you have a vector for unidentified aircraft?" Chen spoke up.

"Contacts are approaching from vector 130, range 386 kilometers. We can count approximately 20 aircraft. We have confirmed they are hostile, repeat aircraft are confirmed hostile, engage at will." The KJ-2000 said.

"Serpents 3 and 7, descend and attack them from behind, we'll draw them in." Serpent 1 ordered.

Han let his centerline fuel tank drop from his fighter and pushed the control stick forward. Switching off his radar and going to the Infrared Tracker atop the nose, he leveled out just a few hundred meters above the forest canopy and raced towards the contacts. Unfortunately this meant he also had to switch to his close-range AA-11 Archers.

"Ready Serpent 3?" Chen asked.

"Always." Han replied.

The lead pilot looked though the holes in clouds above for the shapes of jets. After a minute of searching he spotted black dots, their shape not fully comprehensible, high above and going in the opposite direction.

"We have a visual on the hostile aircraft, engaging." Han called.

The two J-11s flew past the formation before pulling up. As they climbed Han and Chen rolled so they'd be able to level out right side up at the enemy planes. Inside his cockpit Han had activated the radar once again. Before him he was the entire flight. His eyes examined the flights in the center and saw that they were F-119A strike aircraft. They'd pounced on Oseans.

"Aircraft confirmed to be Osean Air Force!" he reported.

No sooner had he said that did his ECM begin to beep. He looked around and saw two F/A-22A Raptors coming down from above.

"Ambush, break formation Serpent 7!" Han barked.

The Linese pilots broke into each other to confuse the Raptors. Han glanced over his shoulder and spotted one of the Osean fighters still tailing him. Han looked forward and pulled back on the stick. The J-11's nose went up and Han began a loop, hoping to make the F-22 undershoot. The Osean jet, showing it just about as agile as the Flanker, followed his maneuver. Han dared the Osean to pull tighter, feeling the G-forces pressing on him. His plane was bleeding airspeed as he went inverted. Han decided he needed to outmaneuver the bandit with more speed. Han pushed the throttles forward and sucked in a fresh breath of cold dry oxygen as he disengaged from the loop at its top. He rolled level and banked left. His speed became plentiful as the F-22 came after him. Han turned into the attack jet and managed to get the Raptor to overshoot. Han reversed and looked at the Osea machine as it moved to outrun him. His helmet-mounted sight began tracking the machine for his AA-11s. He'd have to shot it at the right time or else the F-22's stealthy characteristics would defeat the weapon. Bastard Oseans and their stealth technology Han thought with a frown.

The F-22 pilot saw him and broke right. Han bled off speed again to get an angle. Before him, the Raptor's two tailpipes glowed crimson. The AA-11 beeped in his headset, looking for enough heat to lock. On his HUD he watched as the TD box around the Raptor and the lock diamond tried to merge. The Osean, making sure things were as hard for his adversary as possible, went into the vertical. Han smiled under his mask.

"You won't get away from me." He said.

The J-11 pilot followed closely and waited again. The Infrared Tracker found enough heat and Han heard the tone of a lock on.

"Serpent 3, Archer Launch!" he called as he pressed the button below his thumb.

The Archer slid forward and off its pylon towards the Raptor. The weapon covered the few miles to the fighter in a smooth, steady motion. Han pulled out of the way as the warhead exploded and shrapnel ripped into the Osean machine. Han watched the aircraft slow and begin to fall.

"Serpent 3 has a kill." He said as the pilot ejected.

Han banked back towards the action, looking for what had happened to Chen after the initial fight. He came above the clouds and saw the other Flankers had caught up to him and Chen.

"Serpent 1 this is Ox 1, we'll handle the enemy strike craft for now." The other flight lead radioed.

"Understood Ox 1, all Serpents keep the Osean fighters at bay." Fai ordered.

Han looked up and saw an F-22 passing by a burning J-11. He listened but heard no call from the friendly pilot. Han pulled back on the stick and ascended towards the enemy fighter. The Osean began to dive and Han leveled out, following after the prey. The F-22 began to descend, sensing the presence of the Flanker on its tail.

"Serpent 3 this is Serpent 7, what is your current position?" Chen spoke up.

"Serpent 7, I'm engaged in the offensive with one bandit." He replied.

"Understood 3, watch yourself out there." Chen commented.

The F-22 broke right with Han in full pursuit. It violently reversed, almost forcing Han to overshoot. He hit the brakes and went below the Raptor, controlling the stick and throttle with care he eased back up towards the machine, getting closer. His other AA-11 searched the blue sky for enough heat to go off of. Han partially wished they'd come up against non-stealth F-21s. Those he'd heard were the real dogfighters.

The F-22 began to barrel roll to lose Han. As he did Han caught a lock on and fired. The weapon streaked away and a burst of flares erupted from the Raptor. Han frowned and continued on.

He selected his 30mm cannon, seeing he was getting too close for his remaining AA-12s. As the F-22 leveled out it began to slow. Han jumped at the chance as the pilot attempted a modified version of Pugachev's Cobra to cause the J-11 to overshoot. He pulled the trigger and 30mm shells spat out from the Flanker's right wing root. The F-22's top became fully visible as tracers thumped against the center fuselage. Han immediately slammed the stick forward and barely dodged the Osean. This man was insane!

The Raptor passed and leveled out. Han gave him no chance to get a good angle, going vertical and pulling a loop over the Raptor, which bugged out. Han growled in frustration at the lost chance as the damaged prey ran off.

"Mayday, Mayday he's behind me!"

Han looked around instinctively, recognizing the voice of Wan.

"Serpent 12 this is Serpent 3, where are you?" he asked.

"I'm bellow the fight with an enemy fighter on me!" the youngest aviator in the squadron called.

Han banked right, going near inverted and spotted a Flanker being pursued by an F-22. He armed his AA-12 Adders and rolled earthwards to get a lock, switching to his radar. The latest model AA-12s had slightly modified seeker heads that gave a better chance of locking onto stealthy aircraft.

"Serpent 3, I'm with you!" Chen called. Han noticed his friend coming up from behind. He nodded.

"Keep me covered 7." He requested.

Suddenly the Raptor fired a missile, a heat-seeking AIM-9 Sidewinder.

"Serpent 12, break and deploy flares!" Chen ordered.

The young pilot hauled his Flanker into a hard left, only to get a second AIM-9 fired at him. The flares led the first astray, but the second tracked right into Wan's J-11. It disappeared in flame and a burst of black smoke. The two J-11s came down behind the F-22 as the wreckage was pulled down by gravity.

"Han!" Chen shouted to his friend to get him to fire faster.

"Serpent 3, Adder Launch!" he shouted, letting off two Adders as he got a solid lock. The weapons dropped away and went after the Osean fighter. They caught the machine before it could escape.

"Burn in Hell Yankee!" Chen shouted, letting himself get fired up for a minute. Han watched the Osean eject with dissatisfaction, considering Wan had failed to get out.

"I'm half-tempted to strafe that bastard," he commented.

"You will not." Major Fai spoke up in a firm tone.

"Understood Serpent 1." Han nodded grudgingly.

"Scholar to Serpent, enemy fighters are regressing towards the coast. My congratulations." The AEW plane spoke up.

"Understood, we are running low on fuel. Scrambled the planes on reserve to take our positions." Fai replied…

Chen watched Han as he sprayed two more black X's on his plane. The longer haired man nodded as Han stood back and observed the kill count with a hint of pride.

"Congratulations Han." He nodded. Han looked at him and nodded back.

"A fitting trophy for Wan's vengeance." He replied, climbing down.

"We'll have a toast in his honor tonight." Han added, scratching the back of his shiny black hair.

"Using the good stuff." Chen added.


	18. Chapter 17: Seek and Destroy

**_Author's Note: I'm hoping you read these at the start of each chapter everyone because this one's important. I did do some research on the J-20 before I wrote this, but since its still in testing and what it cane do in real combat have not been showcased, I had to take what I'd found, my knowledge of stealth, and the J-20's appearance and interpret it best I could. Military analyst Bill Sweetman did mention the J-20 was possibly like a MiG-25, but with stealth characteristics, and a bunch of other experts have made different proposals for how it'll perform. If you'd like to cry about how the J-20 was not represented via your standards, please feel free to take it somewhere else. Thank you._**

_Chp. 17: Seek and Destroy_

_November 1, 2024_

_OFS Excalibur_

Eric sighed as he flipped through the papers for ACM evaluations. He hated this part of his job, being assigned to be the squadron training officer. He was responsible for helping Eddie organize non-combat flights to keep VF-138 in top condition for any kind of mission, mainly its primary role of dogfighting.

As he pushed opened the door to his stateroom he was met by the bluesy guitar (and sort of whiny vocals) of 90s country, its source the IPod player Mark had brought onboard for the cruise. He looked over at the man, who was sitting at the desk, doing his own job as the squadron safety officer.

"Tex, why do you listen to that stuff?" he asked.

"A guy can't listen to heavy metal all the time man." He replied as he sighed and sat back in the chair.

"I hate my day job man." He muttered, referring to his secondary duty as safety officer.

"Meh, everyone in the Navy's gotta drive a pencil in some way, shape, or form." Eric commented.

The blonde pilot sat down on the bottom bunk and looked through the papers. He jotted a few things down as there was a knock at the door. Mark scooted the chair over and opened it. Eddie poked his head in.

"Got those papers Saber?" he asked.

"Here sir." Eric nodded, handing the items in his hand. Eddie looked them over and nodded.

"Okay, thanks, briefing's at 0500 guys." He said, glancing at the two.

"Yes sir." They both nodded. He glanced at Mark again and whistled after hearing the music.

"Jeez Mark miss her that much?" he teased, closing the door. The tall pilot looked towards the closed door, eyebrow raised.

"Don't get what a guy driving a rig has to do with me missin Sarah." He commented.

"What song is that anyways?" Eric asked.

"Highway Junkie. It's by Gary Allan." He replied, getting back to his work.

Eric hoisted himself up into his bunk and let out a relaxed sigh.

"So y'all ever get that letter sent?" Mark asked.

"I hope, I slipped it into the outgoing mail before the NLAF tried to hit us with that raid on the 1st, but now that I give it some thought I doubt it could make it to her, even if she's in friendly territory." Eric replied.

"Where was she going?" Mark asked, finishing his report.

"The Northern part of the country to a small village. Said she was going there with some doctors to give medical aid in the wake of the heavy rains and flooding." The blonde explained.

He closed his eye without another word and tried to drift into the realm of sleep, a place which he really felt welcoming at the moment…

"Mr. Bradford, you know my reasons for opposing the idea of militaries and war." Misaki's father said, his back turned towards the blonde.

"Yes sir." The Osean teen simply nodded, though he far from agreed with the man's point of view even in the wake of his father's death in the cockpit of an Osean F-14.

"Why did you call me here Mr. Kuro?" Eric asked. He didn't want any sugar-coating when it came to dealing with the man.

They both knew that there was a feeling of general dislike between them. Misaki was about the only thing that kept her father at bay (and until she'd been asked to leave by the man Misaki's mom, who genuinely approved of him). She actively talked about permanently living with her aunt in Hikura, and Eric supported the idea. The less they had to deal with her father the better.

"Eric, you're 18 now. By the legal standards of your country you're a legal adult now…and as an adult you need to start making decisions that will reflect importantly on your life and future." He went on, looking at one of his bookshelves and then out the window.

"…I understand you have been accepted into the Osean Naval Academy?" he asked. Eric felt his muscles in his arms tighten.

"Yes…" he said.

"While Misaki is at the age of 18 as well, I am still her father, and as such I must make decisions of my own to protect her." He explained. Bullshit.

"That's why I've called you here…and though it is somewhat rude of me to do so…I give you two options…"he began.

Eric clenched his jaw and his mind began to play out what might come next. The man turned around and looked at the young blonde Osean with cold eyes. Eric made sure his gaze was fixed right into Shuhei Kuro's eyes.

"…You can either have my daughter…or your dream…I will not allow my own flesh and blood to be the lover of a soldier." He said, rather bluntly too.

Eric was unsure what to do in response. He resisted the urge to deck the man for even saying something like that.

"Who the fuck are you to give me a choice like that?!" He barked. The man remained the same.

"She is my daughter and I only want what's best for her." He said, voice colder than steel. His bony face was contorted in an expression of contempt for the younger man's outburst.

"I'm not going to let you force that onto me, no way." Eric said. The man's eyes narrowed a bit at him and he leaned forward, fists pressed against the desk between them.

"You have only though two choices. Try to stand against me…in any way…and I'll make it my mission in life to ensure you regret it." He said.

Eric gritted his teeth and swallowed. How would he do that? He sounded confident, so the blonde had to at least consider the possibility that the man had a way. A man like Shuhei Kuro did not make hollow threats. Finally he sighed and opened his mouth.

"Fine you bastard, if you want me out of Misaki's life, then I'll get out."…

Eric's eyes opened and stared at the gray bulkhead above. Below in the darkness he heard Mark snoring a little. And yet Sarah is still crazy for him…

The blonde laid there, guilty he'd said that. Though Misaki was angry with them both and before he left said she understood why he chose the Navy, it still hung over him. He felt selfish and cowardly for it. He needed to walk around and just let the guilt play itself out. He'd need to be up soon anyways…

"As we all can guess the NLAF has been harassing air raids aimed at locations it considers strategic, but recently as we began to hold them back in incurring heavy losses they have begun to employ this …" McGavin began. An image came up of an aircraft that was long and sleek and painted as black as night. Lieutenant Commander Newport came forward.

"The J-20A Black Eagle is the NLAF's first stealth fighter, and used by them primarily as an air defense craft, like the Yukes do with their MiG-37, and so despite the presence of a gun it mainly fights with missiles. Its stealth characteristics are not fully known but what reports we've been provided tell us it's fast. It could be just harder to detect or worse, so try and take it on in pairs. That's the only advice I can give you after being handed what info I have from the higher ups." He said, a few pictures of the jet being presented alongside the briefing. Mark raised a hand.

"So if it's basically like th Foxwolf, then why should we worry?" the farm boy asked, cocking the brow of his black cowboy hat upwards.

"Because that's nothing more than an assumption Tex. We've gotten a few first hand reports and things of that nature, but until we've really fought this machine we can't honestly tell you what it's capable of." McGavin spoke up. Mark nodded.

"Our mission today will be to escort a B-1 raid against two major Linese forward air bases. Intel believes that this area is covered by J-20s, so that's why we need to heighten our guard when we go in." McGavin went on, getting to the mission details…

That morning the air was cool. The Linese winter was on its way Eric thought. He felt sorry for his brother, who'd written saying he was with the Marine Task Force deployed to the fight. He'd griped to Eric about the approaching cold, but other than that generally talked about how the war was affecting him. Eric knew his little brother. James was on the smaller side, but he made up for that with his quiet determination.

The dark still had a plentiful foothold on the world, the sun not even a quarter of the way up. The pilots walked across the deck, ears strained like they always were by engines. Eric used his flashlight to illuminate the F-21 as he inspected it. When he was done he climbed aboard, settling once again into his ejection seat. He secured his oxygen mask and strapped in before closing the canopy over his head.

Ten F-21s, four from each squadron, plus another six F-35s armed for Iron Hand, launched into the slowly brightening sky. They gathered into their respective formations and turned west. To Eric the flight was as quiet and as mundane as the others. By now he'd begun to accept the fear of flying combat missions. The guys who'd proposed that "ten missions after you'll be okay" thing were probably right. He also had vehement motivation to survive and see Misaki. His dream had taught him one thing: Shuhei Kuro would not and could not stop him now; the bastard could count on that.

As they approached the coast, larger shapes began to appear. Lumbering far to the right were Osean Air Force B-1B Lancers, wings spread. It was surprising they'd been tasked to escort the bombers, a job often handled by Shimoji-based Raptors. Eric looked forward at McGavin, who hung in the front of the formation. They slid in front of the bombers and lead the force into North Linese airspace.

"Ronin Lead to Watchman, feet dry at this time." McGavin reported.

"Roger that Ronin Lead, good hunting." The controller for the Navy jets involved replied.

"Ronin Flight, spread out and cover Emperor Flight, assigned positions." McGavin radioed.

Eric, paired up with Mark, slid over the Lancers and in front of them by a few miles. Eric saw DJ and Joker taking up position to the far right, white contrails marking their path.

"Thunderbolt 101 to Ronin 201, in position Scotty." The Commander of VF-123 spoke up.

It felt almost like an air show as the big formation swept across the sky. But to Eric the lack of action was getting to him. The NLAF didn't usually let them this far without a SAM site or something tracking them. He looked around, trying to spot anything suspicious. Just then the radio came to life.

"Heads up, my ECM's chipping." One of the Bomber pilots called out.

"Can you ID what kind Emperor 1-5?" another asked.

"Sounds like an interceptor's."

"Y'all sure 1-5? My radar's clean." Mark spoke up in a concerned voice.

"He's right, not even a blip on mine." Eric agreed, looking at the dark green display. He didn't even consider it until One of the B-1s called it out.

"Right above us! Right above, two of em!"

Eric looked over his shoulder and saw two shapes in the dull blue sky just below his blind spot at the sun.

"Heads up! Two J-20s, six o' clock high!" He called, immediately releasing his centerline tank.

The two stealth fighters streaked down from their ambush perch on the unsuspecting Oseans. The fighters scrambled to challenge the two fighters, everyone wanting a shot at bagging a stealth fighter. Mark went vertical, Eric close by to deny them a shot at their six o' clock.

The farm boy watched as the lead J-20 left a B-1 trailing smoke. He rolled as the machines passed under and dove back down at them. His AMRAAMs couldn't sniff out a thing, much to his frustration. He hoped it was like the Raptor, only stealthy at certain angles.

"Emperor Flight, descend and increase speed!" McGavin ordered as the J-20s went below the clouds, hoping once in their true environment (down low and fast) the Lancers would have a better chance of outrunning and evading the NLAF fighters.

"Roger, we'll leave em to you guys and try and run on to the target." The lead B-1 replied.

Mark descended after the Black Eagles which burst through some clouds, Eric following his friend a little further back. He selected his AIM-9s, knowing the AMRAAMs were, for now, useless. He screamed in after them and leveled out below the clouds. As he tried to go for a missile lock he heard Eric call out.

"Two more at our six Tex! Break, break!"

He looked in his rearview mirrors and growled as two more J-20s sprang an ambush.

"Break Saber! Break now!" He drawled.

Eric and Mark crossed oaths to temporarily confuse the pursuing stealths. He kept a close eye on the new fighter that came after him. Over a dozen questions buzzed in the far back regions of his mind. What was it armed with? How nimble was it? Better than a J-10? Worse? His train of thought was cut off when his ECM came to life. For now he just had to use his F-21's strengths to the fullest.

The HUD turned red as the J-20 took a shot at him. Eric dumped off flares and broke left towards the machine. It followed just underneath him, going for another shot as its first took the bait laid out by the countermeasures. The NLAF bird was staying with him, but not as well as he'd thought. Maybe his smaller fighter had a chance?

The chase climbed back up to high altitude, where the other fighters were taking on more of the NLAF jets. Eric heard his ECM starting to move faster again, He broke out of the climb and pulled back on the throttles, hoping to slide out of the J-20's path as soon as he could. The machine rolled and came around after him from below. He kept an eye on the machine as he broke right, then made a rather violent barrel roll. He was flirting stall speed now, but he just needed to get the Black Eagle to overshoot, right into the path of his M61. It came out in front of him. Eric nearly shouted for joy, but it was short-lived as the J-20 simply showcased its acceleration and took off. Eric hit the throttles and went after him…

Mark watched as another burst of flares sailed away to decoy the J-20's shot at him. His back was nearly sinking into the seat as he continued hard left. From what the others over the radio, there were at least eight of these machines trying to attack the B-1s. He'd already briefly seen one, the bomber that'd been hit in the initial ambush, doomed and going in hard. The crew of the mighty beast frantically moved to eject, and he hoped they had all escaped with their lives. Bombers could be replaced easily, but not trained and experienced crews.

He looked over his shoulder and saw the J-20 undershooting him. Finally after so many turns and violent maneuvers he was slowing prying the upper hand out of the Linese pilot's possession. He kept up his turn, getting the most out of what airspeed he had.

"That big sucker must not be as agile as I thought." He grinned to himself, waiting to see if his Sidewinders could get a solid lock.

The J-20 came in front of him, afterburners lit in an attempt to escape. Of course it produced a nice large heat source for which the AIM-9's seeker head could see clearly. Mark lifted up his thumb and the pushed down the launch button.

"Ronin 204, Fox 2!" He called off as he sent the weapon after his prey.

The Black Eagle, as Mark partially expected, let off flares to defend itself against the attack. It only served to anger Mark however. His fifth kill hung in front of him, and it was a stealth fighter at that! He went for another lock as quickly as he could. The J-20 barrel rolled, forcing Mark to stay back a little further to give the AIM-9s a better view. The J-20 led him back down through the clouds. Mark, sensing another trap, began to circle like a vulture, looking out for any other Black Eagles. After a short time he saw the J-20 (or maybe a different one). Burst back through the clouds. He banked right and dove on the NLAF fighter. He slid behind it and let his Sidewinder get a long smell of the engines. The shrill tone of lock-on sounded as the TD box and diamond lined up.

"Ronin 204, Fox 2!" He called.

The J-20 began a climb to escape the missile. Mark watched anxiously as it climbed up, waiting for the J-20 to shoot off more flares. As he saw the first ones falling away the AIM-9's warhead fired. Mark flew above the J-20 as it slowed from its descent and began to slide backwards, falling. Mark watched as his fifth kill become reality. That one's for Emperor 1-5 motherfucker…

"Mayday! Mayday! Tex where are you? I've still got one on me!"

Eric's call redirected Mark's attention.

"Where are y'all Saber?" he replied.

"Right below I think!" Eric reported…

Eric and the J-20 once again made violent slashes at each other. The J-20 pilot had made sure to keep the fight well in his control. Eric even wondered if the pilot intended to ram his F-21 (He was too close for it to use missiles, and had managed to stay away from giving the machine the proper angle for a gun if it had one). He looked around for Mark and saw the triangular shape of another Thunderhawk with its wings swept back.

"I see yah Saber, hang on." Mark assured.

"Just don't bag him, he's mine." Eric replied. His cowboy of a friend chuckled and gave a "roger that".

His friend made a Fox 3 call. Though the weapon had next to no chance of tracking the J-20, Eric saw the pilot got spooked by the sheer fact of a missile being shot at him. Eric saw him break right and end the flat rolling scissors. Eric went after the stealth fighter, gun still selected from when it had run away from him. The pipper sat in the center of the HUD, and 680 rounds of 20mm were ready to be used. Eric pushed past Mach 1 as he chased after the fleeing J-20. He pulled up a small bit and curled his index finger around the trigger, with a surgeon's precision he gained lead and squeezed. To his left came the muffled buzz saw sound he'd heard when he'd strafed the FLR gunboats before the war. A line of bright yellow tracers streaked across the gray sky and into the J-20 Eric saw flashes of impact and the J-20 began to slow. With Mark covering his six they flew by.

"That makes two of em." Eric called…

Major Jerry "Rook" Chess guided his massive B-1 as it flew over the hills and paddies of the Linese countryside. The Lancer's wings were swept back, and it was in its niche: down on the deck at high speed. They'd constantly practiced outrunning Fighters back home during exercises.

"We're gonna have to get a little higher than this if we wanna escape the bomb blast sir." The weapons officer spoke up from his seat further back in the cockpit. Chess looked at his altimeter. They were going over Mach 1 at 3000 feet. He wondered what any farmers below might be thinking at the sight.

"Emperor Lead to Flight, report." He spoke up, unsure who had and hadn't been bagged in the ambush.

"Emperor 1-2, still up."

"1-3, I'm here."

"1-4, had to turn home due to damage, but we're okay."

"Emperor 1-6 here, got a belly full of bombs that need targets lead."

So the only casualty had been 1-5, 1st Lt. Mayberry and his crew. Chess looked at his co-pilot and nodded.

"Emperor Flight, attack at will, make sure you're high enough to avoid getting hit by your own bomb blasts." He ordered.

Glancing back at the GPS, the two crewmen saw that their target approaching. It'd been two jets to each base originally, but with 1-5 gone change was needed.

"Emperor 1-4, go with 1-6 and hit the target he's gonna hit." The man ordered.

"Roger that Lead." its pilot, Captain Dean Booker, replied.

"Okay Gary, open the weapons bay and arm em." Chess ordered.

As they cleared a small ridge and climbed to 5000 feet Chess's brain began to run things through. The F-35s had managed some success against the base air defenses, but he couldn't count on them to have cleaned it out 100%. There were over a dozen possibilities. The Linese had hidden weapons, MANPADS. And various other factors he couldn't control. Behind him the weapons officer called off the proper procedures as they readied the Mk.83s in the bay. Though normally the carried guided weapons, a stationary target such as an air base would make it an unwanted waste of technology.

Ahead he saw the long gray line of the runway he kept the jet stable. Once glance towards the radar, then the co-pilot revealed another B-1 to his right. It had to be Emperor 1-3.

"Drop em all Gary." He ordered as they hit the proper distance.

"Emperor 1-1, bombs away." The man called.

From the bay dropped 42 Mk 83 bombs, being released as fast as the rotary bay could move. A few lines of tracers drifted up at the Osean bomber as it screamed over the target, fire and shrapnel erupting in its wake. The other Lancer did the same, hitting what Chess's had missed.

"Ronin, Thunderbolt, Emperor 1-1. Weapons released, turning back onto heading 090 for egress." He reported calmly as he slowed down, easing the ascending B-1 into a left bank.

"Roger that Emperor, we'll be waiting." One of the lead pilots, known as 'Scotty" by the radio chatter, replied. Chess felt relieved to have escort back. I take back all those things I've said about squids he thought…


	19. Chapter 18: Going Downtown

**_Author's Note: I see Emmeria as a combination of Italy, France, and a dash of Canada_**

_Chp. 18: Going Downtown_

_November 10, 2024_

_OMC forward staging area, Highway 6, South Cholina_

James was fast asleep inside the small tent, gear laid out next to his sleeping cot. It'd been the longest he'd slept in nearly a month of fighting. For the most part it'd been around the highway, breaking the NLA's advance and cutting down the number of FLR rebels trying to harass them. It'd been a bloody road too. Causalities went out of almost every battle with the slowly retreating NLA, and occasionally the FLR (who against a force like the marines were about as good as gun waving, rap blasting street punks).

"Brad, hey Brad…"

James tilted his head, hearing Jose's voice but not full acknowledging it. The cot felt like paradise compared to sleeping in the seat of an MLAV. He didn't want to leave it, not now…Jose added a kick to his first repeating of the sentence

"Stop dreaming about pretty Linese girls and get up, the Captain's gathering us for a brief soon." He added. James's eyes cracked open and he looked up at the LMG operator, who was fully geared up, helmet in hands.

"Okay give me a minute man." James said, shaking the drowsiness from his head. He slide out from the blanket and reached for his boots.

After a few minutes of fitting his gear on and grabbing his ACR from beside the cot. Jose was waiting outside the tent. The sky, like it had been for weeks, was gloomy and showing signs of the coming winter. Captain Stuart had gathered them men around an M1168 Scout, in full combat gear.

"Gentlemen, we're getting ready to move into the city of Gin-Fao-Ma. UN troops have been driven into the city and since then have been under heavy siege by NLA and FLR forces, mainly the former. We've been ordered to relieve them. We'll be supporting 1st Battalion's tanks as they roll in and spearhead the assault into the city. All source intel reports that the NLA already has long had forward elements pushing into the city to include armor. What reports we've gotten from the UN troops also indicate they are making a dedicated attempt to keep the airspace over the city under their control, which means air support will be scarce until we can thin out some of the AA positions inside the city. On that note, besides supporting the advance towards the UN forces, any AA guns you come across are to be knocked out so we can make things easier on the fast air guys…" He began. He asked for any questions and one of the platoon leaders raised a hand.

"Will we have ANY kind of support sir?" he asked.

"We'll have a battery of artillery support covering a good part of the city. We yell, they shell." He replied. He put on his helmet and secured it.

"Okay everyone, get some chow in you and make sure you're ready to move out. Half an hour!" He said in finality, hoping off the JLTV shortly after.

Breakfast that day was the usual instant eggs and pre-cooked bacon (the kind you zapped in a microwave at home). Empty plate between his feet, James watched as the M11A1 Bulldogs sat in wait towards the edge of the temporary camp. Their crew, dressed in their coveralls, Kevlar and CVC helmets, seemed to be crawling all over the things to make sure they were ready in combat. Already the logistics and support guys were breaking down things to be moved closer to the action. They'd never been staying long in one place, and today was no exception.

"Think we'll get a chance to get laid in this place?" Izzy spoke up to the left, leaning towards his friend. James looked back at the other marine and grinned.

"Izzy you couldn't get laid by your own sister." He teased. Izzy itched the side of his head closest to James with his middle finger.

The idea of female companionship however, did have its luring (albeit sinful) nature. The few weeks of intense fighting had but considerable strain on James in many ways, and he didn't really have any girl to think about or write to. However, he doubted that his conscious would allow him to carry out such an act. In fact he felt a bit more preoccupied with what was approaching…

"Up the ramp! Move it!" Sgt. Garvin barked. James and the others hustled into the troop compartment of the MLAV, boots thumping against the metal below their feet.

The engines of the Marine AAVs belched and growled as their crew waited for the "livestock" to get aboard and settled in. James watched as once again as it had before, the ramp came back up with a mechanical whirr. The rear ramp sealed shut and the MLAV's engine increased in rumble. The AAV rolled forward towards the highway. The radio was calmly alive with chatter as the M11s escorting them assumed a wall formation to cover the vulnerable MLAVs.

"Anyone ever notice that we get handed the overtly difficult missions?" Izzy joked.

"Stop bitching Izzy, you should've thought about that before you joined." Slinger retorted.

"Cut the chatter, both of you." Garvin said. He looked at his squad, who returned his gaze.

"Okay the MLAV's gonna get as close to the city as it can, but once the ramp drops we're humping it. We'll be providing support to the M11s as they try and clear a path to the UN forces. We'll be moving towards a group of Emmerian troops pinned down near an ancient temple in the city. Now as the Captain said we don't know what air support we can get or if we will even get any. Keep an eye out for AA guns and especially keep an eye out for North Linese jets. Slinger, keep those Anti-Air rounds for the Zeus ready and only shoot if you can hit what's shooting at us." He made very clear, referring to the lighter weapon the AT handler for the squad had taken instead of an SMAW.

"Gotcha Sarge." The man nodded.

The ride down towards the city was quiet, any sounds that might've been outside mostly drowned by the MLAV's engine. The radio still chirped with small chatter but it felt like nothing existed outside the compartment. That's how it usually is, James thought, until one guy shouts ambush or something we just wait.

"Hey, you guys know what today is?" Izzy spoke up. The other marines glanced at him, faces suggesting they didn't know but wanted to, given the random nature of the outburst.

"It's the Marine Corps' birthday." He explained.

"Yeah, happy birthday to us." Jose commented dryly. It was at the moment a less than important, but nicely sentimental thing to know.

The MLAV came to a sudden halt. Its engine lowering in pitch, things were revealed to be much quieter outside beyond the distance sounds of fighting. The ramp dropped and out the troops went as they had the first day.

"Okay first and second squads, follow that Bulldog!" The platoon leader ordered, pointing the men getting off at an advancing M11.

The MLAVs had dropped off their infantry at the highway around the outskirts of the city while the M11s rolled on slowly. Garvin had the squad form a line, each marine giving the guy in front of him and behind him appropriate space. They moved down an onramp onto the city streets. This part of the city, occupied by neither the NLA nor UN, looked quiet and peaceful but devoid of civilian life. James's eyes panned around, watching for any kind of movement. He looked forward at the back of Slinger's head. The M11 moved on loudly, taking up a good part of the small street it traveled.

James looked down towards a large intersection. He noticed Garvin give the order to stop. The marine with dusty brown hair turned around and motioned for them to ready for a crossing of the exposed area as the M11 pushed on. On Garvin's signal Izzy and James ran across the street towards the traffic circle in the middle, aiming to take cover behind an idle car. The sudden popping of automatic weapons fire sounded as they reached their destination. Back at the corner Jose fired a burst from his M250 in response to the shooter. He kept the weapon going as Slinger and the medic, Roth, made a dash for the truck. James poked around the front of the vehicle and fired a few shots. A heavy weapon, the M11's M2 Machine Gun atop its turret, finished off the shooter.

"We're clear Sarge!" James reported into his mike.

The squad began moving again. Jose and Garvin were next

"Did you get an eye on him?" Slinger asked as he moved by. James shook his head.

"Probably an FLR shooter." He concluded, keeping an eye towards the partially Swiss-cheesed building. As the last of the squad passed James joined them, slapping Izzy on the shoulder. The redhead took up the rear as they made haste to catch up with the other marines and the tank. The Bulldog moved on as if nothing had ever happened. Just like out on the highway James thought.

The road was set up the same as they moved on, empty shops and cars left unattended for the sake of survival. James's eyes drifted up again, fingers dancing on the front of the ACR. His monocle didn't pick up anything either, but paranoia had its ways of pushing past reassurance. Either the FLR or the NLA were somewhere in the maze of streets, waiting for the Oseans that were coming.

"Any UN forces on this frequency, this is Bravo 2-1, report you position, how copy?" Garvin said over the radio. Silence replied to his call.

"Any UN forces on this frequency, this is Bravo 2-1, report you position, how copy?" he repeated, raising his voice a little. He was about to try again when the radio net came to life.

"Bravo 2-1 this is Nostradamus 3-2, we are reading you." A distinctly Emmerian (French) accent replied. Small pops of automatic weapons fire (interestingly similar to those heard in the distance) went off behind the speaker's voice.

"Nostradamus 3-2, Bravo 2-1, gimmie a SITREP." Garvin asked.

"We've holed up near the city temple Bravo 2-1; FLR troops have been making probes at our position all morning, and we might be getting attention from the NLA soon, they mortared us earlier." The voice said with a grim tone.

"Roger that Nostradamus, sit tight and we'll get to you soon enough." Garvin replied.

James wondered if a dozen men and a single M11 would make any difference, especially if the NLA was approaching, scouts or otherwise. Of course, there was also the possibility of fast air joining the fun.

Another large intersection prompted the tank to stop. There was a large bus sitting quietly across the way. The marines took cover among the storefronts and waited to hear what the tank might've sniffed out.

"I smell an IED." The tank's commander spoke up over the radio.

"That's the way we have to go…" the other squad leader agreed.

James waited; weapon raised just enough if things became dicey. After a few seconds he spoke.

"I say we shoot it up." The marine proposed. Slinger glanced back at him, then nodded in agreement.

"Roger that, wait one." The tank commander said.

The Bulldog's engine began to rumble again as it moved forward; the .50 Cal up top began to transverse in small jerks, lining up a shot. As it began to shoot a loud whoosh sounded, drawing attention to the right corner of the intersection. An RPG came flying down at the M11 from the building at the same area. Atop the M11 the ECS-23 'Guard Fence' greeted the rocket with an invisible barrier of electronic noise. The weapon exploded before the M11's turret began to swing. From the front the bus revealed itself not to be an IED, but a nest for more FLR fighters.

"Taylor, we'll hit that building on the right!" Garvin reported to the other squad's leader.

Garvin signaled for the squad to assault across the street and into the building. James followed Slinger towards the corner, Jose running and gunning with his M250. They tried to set up behind overturned carts and a few cars to cross, but the volume of fire from the building they'd aimed for increased. James came up and peered down the sight on his rifle, squeezing off rounds at the muzzle flashes of the mostly unseen shooters. It was clear that they FLR had no intention of letting the Oseans any closer.

"Marines sit tight, we'll try and get a round or two into that building." The M11 radioed.

The turret of the Marine MBT began to rotate, gun barrel leveling at the center of the structure. James hunkered down and waited for the sound. He looked over and saw the 125mm gun throw a round into the building. The massive bang rattled his ears and gave the M11 a small shake. He saw the building's center explode, bits of concrete and a cloud of dust falling from the three-story building. The place began to collapse, dust spreading across the street and sidewalk. James got up, monocle switched to thermal. The bus was still filled with FLR fighters. The building had collapsed as much as it could. James ran to the corner and slammed his back against a small piece of wall, joined by Jose.

James came, taking a knee around and fired several rounds of 5.56, emptying the magazine in the burst. As he took cover Jose stood a little further out and fired another long burst from his LMG, casings arcing away. The M11's engine growled as it moved forward towards the bus, the fire began to die down as James rounded the corner, other marines following as the M11 drew most of the fire. James saw one FLR trooper bail out of the left side windows as the MBT came within inches of the thing. The front end of the behemoth machine first pushed the bus, and then began to crush it. Metal groaned and cracked as the M11 pacified the smaller machine as an obstacle. James followed right after and they pushed on down a long street. To the left was a small sort of park, leading on to more small buildings, shops, across the side street beyond. Garvin gave the order to make for the better cover than the storefronts.

James ran across the street behind the M11, Jose covering their six as they ran with the others to the place. More fire came from the small buildings, forcing James to the ground. The popping of small arms went off, kicking up dirt and splintering wood of trees. Flat on his stomach James fired back while Jose fired the last burst from his M250. Izzy and Slinger had taken cover behind a small fountain. James spotted one of the attackers for a brief second, in dark green digital camo. They'd run into NLA troopers, probably scouts. The M11 fired its coaxial MG at the attacking soldiers. It was almost too easy having a tank with them James thought.

The marines took advantage of the covering fire to storm the market. The NLA scouts retreated a smidgen, daring the marine to come and get them. The Oseans came, but with caution. Jose and Slinger stayed back and dug in while Garvin took James, Izzy and Roth forward to help the other squad flush out the NLA troops.

James followed Garvin down an alley between two shops that lead to a small courtyard within the market. Garvin raised his weapon and fired a few shots across at a two-story building as the door slammed closed.

"A few of em went in there!" he called out, pointing at the structure. He ordered James and Izzy forward. The second story window suddenly shattered and a heavy thunder erupted. James nearly did a face plant as he took cover behind a small fountain. The heavy weapon chewed up the concrete blocks that made up the sidewalk. From further back Garvin fired off rounds from his ACR to help his fellow marines.

"Pop smoke!" he ordered over the radio. Izzy took the command and sent a yellow canister out into the open. It hissed and sprayed thick gray smoke through the space. James switched to thermal and ran for the front of the building. The guy operating the LMG showed he had thermal too, following the Osean's path with bullets Izzy fired a few rounds to distract the NLA trooper.

James hit the wall next to the door and took out a grenade. The popping of Garvin and Izzy's ACRs vied with the LMG, probably a Type 88. The Corporal took a grenade from its pouch and slung his ACR for a brief second over his chest. He grabbed the door and as soon as it was open enough tossed in the explosive inside. It exploded as Izzy came forward, a few bullets zipping down into the ground behind him too.

James was the first into the house, rifle at the ready. He relied on Izzy to keep their backs covered as he went across the room of what appeared to be a fish market. Ahead lay some stairs that hopefully lead to the MG nest. Another grenade should finish the problem. He readied the explosive as he reached the stairs, finding he'd need to be at the first landing for the steps to get a good shot. Bullets cut up the wall above. Nevertheless James pulled the pin and counted to three before he tossed the frag grenade. He heard shouts in Linese as he ran back down the stairs. As the explosive went off a small part of the ceiling above caved in. James stopped as the debris fell down. Old roof he thought.

"MG's flushed out Sarge!" Izzy reported.

"Good, regroup on me." Garvin ordered.

The two marines left the dead NLA troopers and rejoined Garvin and Roth. The squad reformed on the tank, who along with the other squad had taken up position near a highway overpass.

"Nostradamus 3-2 this is Bravo 2-1, we are closing in, how copy?" Garvin radioed.

"Roger that Bravo, be advised some of my scouts have sighted FLR technicals with AA weapons, do you think you can engage and destroy them over?" the Emmerian voice replied.

"Roger Nostradamus, we've got artillery ready, standby for relay. Battery call sign is Jackhammer 2." He said.

"Merci." The man replied…

The battery of M110A1 Crusaders sat in a position in the outskirts of Gin-Fao-Ma. The battery commander sat ready at the radio, waiting for any calls for help.

"Jackhammer 2, this Nostradamus 3-2, my scouts report FLR ZPUs and troops near our position, requesting fire mission." A voice spoke up. The battery commander sat up straight.

"Roger that Nostradamus 3-2, relay coordinates, how copy?" he replied.

"Roger, standby." The Emmerian soldier replied. The man relayed a set of coordinates that placed the target near the large palace in the center of the city.

"Coordinates received 3-2, standby and stay down." The battery commander said before switching to the net for his battery.

"Jackhammer 2 this is Jackhammer actual, fire mission to coordinates 1-1-8-0, one shot, fire for effect on my command." He said. A string or "Roger that" calls sounded in return. The commander glanced over as the loader of his own M110 pushed a round into the gun breech and waited for the battery to be ready

"Fire!" he ordered…

James heard the whistling of artillery shells screaming downwards as they made their way under the freeway. They crashed somewhere in the distance. He kept on, assuming it was one of the Crusader batteries outside the city.

On the other side of the underpass was a large wall at the end of another T-intersection.

"Nostradamus 3-2 this is Bravo 2-1, we've reached the south wall of the palace how copy?" Garvin reported as the M11 turned to the left.

"Heads up! Type 92 to the front!" the tank shouted.

James looked to his left and caught the IFV as it stopped, turret traversing. It wouldn't last long against the Bulldog but it could easily take some infantry with it. He looked forward and saw the others running for a gate close by. He followed as he heard the NLA machine's coaxial 20mm cannon at the fleeing marines James dove through the gate as the M11 fired.

"Bravo 2-1, position your tank at the intersection where it destroyed that Type 92, we need to cover that area." The Emmerian peacekeeper spoke up.

"Horseman 5-3 Roger that." The M11 commander radioed.

"Nostradamus 3-2 what's your current situation?" Garvin asked as the other squad came onto the grounds.

"The NLA has been making stronger probes at us, we believe those Type 92s were scouts for a larger force. They're coming and they don't seem to be interested in following the St. Ark convention." The voice replied.

"Roger that 3-2, hopefully we can get some fast air here soon." Garvin replied in a grim tone.

The sergeant sent his squad towards the central building that was the most immediate cover. From there they ran down a walkway towards another building. As they approached it the door opened. Slinger, in the lead, raised his weapon to fire, but stopped when he saw the blue helmet of a peacekeeper. He let the 12 marines inside and shut the door and closed it. The Emmerian took his G36 in both hands and looked over the group.

"Where's the others?" he asked.

"We're it." James replied before anyone else. The peacekeeper looked surprised at first, and then nodded coolly.

"Very well…Glad you could make it gentlemen, now if you'd follow me Lt. Aubel is waiting." He said, walking towards the door on the opposite side.


	20. Chapter 19: Duel

**_Author's Note: the AH-65 is a sort of mix between the AH-64 and RAH-66_**

_Chp. 19: Duel_

_November 10, 2024_

_OFS Excalibur_

If there was one thing Eric could complain about as a fighter pilot, apart from your part-time desk job, it was ground attack. With today's guided weapons like the JDAM, it lacked the fun and challenge of dogfighting, and unlike Iron Hand you weren't attacking something that was shooting at you whole you tried to do the same. But everybody nowadays had to do it, even F-22 pilots. Because after all the commanders placed more importance on gaining ground, and you couldn't take and hold a town with an F-21…

"Attention on deck." Eddie announced.

Eric stood up and assumed the ordered stance as Commander McGavin came down the center aisle. He nodded and instructed the eight pilots to take their seats again.

"Good afternoon everyone, today we'll be flying Responsive Strike, which as you know means we'll be waiting off the coast for something to drop bombs on. Each flight will have one pilot on the guard frequency, mainly because we'll be helping SOF gents back in occupied territory." McGavin went on, the projector casting an image of the area onto the screen.

"We'll be holding in friendly airspace until we're fragged to any targets up North. We need to follow any instructions closely since we're working with SOCOM boys." The lead man went on. Mark raised his hand.

"Will we have anything in terms of airborne FAC?" the tall pilot drawled when acknowledged.

"Probably not, any instructions will most likely come from the SOF teams. Most of the Fast FACs are tied up helping around the front line. But we will have one extra bit of support. The EFS Silvat has promised a flight of Rafales to provide air cover." McGavin said. Mark nodded and Eric felt silent relief they'd have some help.

"A Bullshark will be orbiting just to the east of your holding area, so if you need any gas hit it up. The callsign for our AWACS will be 'Guardhouse'. Any further questions?" McGavin finished. The room was silent. Ground attack was, as Eric had thought earlier, relatively simple (as well as the lack of a defined target cutting down on the solid information).

"Very well then, dismissed." McGavin said. With another 'attention on deck" call, the commander left and Eddie led the pilots in the flight to the locker room.

As Eric passed by the mailbox he noticed a package in it. On a hunch he grabbed the box and saw it was what he suspected it was. The pilot began ripping open the box as he followed the others to the locker room.

"What's that?" Eddie asked as he turned the dial on his locker. The blonde took out a black cylinder and turned it over in his hand, examining the part.

"Suppressor for my SiG sir, I figured should I ever get downed and need to use my weapon, this'll help from bringing too much of the NLA down on me." Eric replied, setting it inside his locker and taking out his G-suit.

"That sounds like jinxing yerself if y'all ask me." Mark commented.

"Better safe than sorry." Eric replied.

"Yeah Mark, especially if your "sidearm" can penetrate a vehicle's engine block." DJ added, referring to the farm boy's Colt Python.

"Trust me, I know well when to huddle under a bush and when to draw and blow some sonuvabitch's head off." Mark said, taking off his glasses.

Eric secured the piece of flight gear onto his frame and took the suppressor, storing it alongside his survival gear. Her grabbed his helmet and followed the others to get his oxygen equipment.

The sky outside was signifying the approach of winter weather. Already a few missions over the North had included light snow on the ground below. The _Excalibur_ and _Vincent Harling_, along with the _Silvat_, _Bastok Peninsula_ and _Oured_ were keeping a close eye on weather patterns so they could keep up the air support they provided alongside land-based units.

Eric's F-21 was waiting near the aft port elevator. He looked at the wings. He had four GBU-12s on the inner pylons (on dual racks) and two normal Mk. 82s on the outer ones. The 82s were old weapons, having been used back when his grandfather had been flying F-4s. They weren't high-tech or super accurate like the Paveways, but they were simple and got the job done when you hit your target…

Han Dao-Chong and the other pilots chosen for the next patrol shift over occupied territory walked out of the building and onto the tarmac, where their J-11s awaited them. The jets were armed as they usually were, Adders and Archers secured to their pylons. Han looked at his friend, straightening his short black hair.

"Ready for another one Han?" the more energetic of the two asked. Han nodded.

"Of course, it just rests on whether or not we can find some good opponents." He added. Chen laughed.

"You can't always hope for the best, it'll wear you out." He said as he walked away towards his own J-11.

Han now had 11 black X's painted under his cockpit. The fighting since his obtaining of ace status had stepped up, and several pilots had been shot down. Some were retrieved and flying as soon as a new Flanker arrived, others would never be seen again.

Han ascended once again into his fighter's cockpit, ground crew scrambling to make sure he could take off as soon as he wanted. Takeoff was routine and quick for the Linese pilots.

As he got airborne, Chen joined Han on his right wing. The two J-11s ascended above the clouds, engines roaring steadily.

Han took the lead and the pair flew south before banking around to pick up the next pair of fighters, repeating the process another time before proceeding south again, only this time for a longer period of time. The formation leveled out at around 3500 meters above the ground.

"Serpent Flight, maintain level of flight and spread out, stay tuned to the AEW frequency, but do not activate your radars until given proper clearance, we don't want to draw any attention during our egress." He-Ping ordered. With nothing more than microphone clicks, the formation did as their leader had ordered. Once again the 51st Fighter Squadron was on the hunt…

Eric watched as the hose coming from the F-35's buddy store connected to the refueling probe on the F-21.

"Fuel's flowing." The pilot of the strike fighter radioed.

They'd been a holding pattern for two hours now, and still not a peep from any SOF teams in their assigned sector. So far they'd just been circling, pissing away JP5. Eric had already dropped his now dry centerline tank, this gulp of liquid going straight to the main tanks of the Thunderhawk.

"Okay Ronin 208, you're clear." The drone operator updated.

"Roger that Talon 410." Eric replied, easing away from the hose and retracted the probe. He rolled left and away from the Lightning II, letting DJ slid into position for his share of gas.

"Hey guys look at the bright side, two more hours and we're home free." DJ said. The dark skinned pilot's face formed into a sarcastic grin.

"It'll be a bright side when I land." Mark chuckled.

DJ slid away from the F-35 and back into formation. Mark looked over each shoulder and seeing that the four pilots in his flight were back with him, banked left back towards the holding pattern.

"Everyone still doing okay?" Mark asked.

"Yeah I'm good Tex." Eric replied, taking a glance at his picture of Misaki.

"Just fine Tex." DJ nodded.

"Good, Dart?" Mark drawled.

"Just fine." Lt. (j.g.) Chris Ferris replied.

The F-21s headed to the southwest. As they came upon the holding area the radio came to life.

"Ronin Flight 2 this is Guardhouse, I've got a job for you, you up for it?" one of the controllers aboard the E-12 radioed.

"Depends on what it is." DJ remarked.

"We're still waiting on that flight of Rafales from the Silvat Guardhouse, what's their status?" Mark spoke up.

"No word, they may have been reassigned." The controller replied.

That was just great, just fan-fucking-tastic Mark thought. They were needed for support and they would have no effective cover. The lack of AIM-9s was what worried him the most. Sure they had their guns and AMRAAMs, but he doubted any NLAF fighters would try and shoot from long range lest they lose the element of surprise.

"Well Tex? It's your call." DJ said.

"I say we go for it." Chris voiced. Mark thought a moment.

"Okay Guardhouse, we can go in without the Rafales, where are we needed?" He said.

"I've got a flight of Thunderheads, call sign Roughneck, doing deep strike to your north. You are to give them any assistance, how copy?" The controller radioed.

"Ronin Flight 2 copies all. Okay Saber you're with me. DJ, Dart, stay close behind but no tailgating, got me?" Mark drawled.

"Gotcha Tex." DJ replied as Mark and Eric broke off from the formation.

They turned north and went towards the ground. The coast of South Cholina slipped into view. They kept from going feet dry, going just off the coast around 1000 feet. It wasn't totally uncommon for AH-65s to be this far behind enemy lines. The attack helicopters could do a just as good a job at interdiction as jet aircraft.

"Roughneck this is Ronin, flight of four inbound to yer 20, what's your current situation?" Mark radioed.

"Ronin this is Roughneck 1, we are proceeding along heading 010, looking for targets. We'll give you boys a heads up if we come upon anything." Another voice radioed.

"Understood Roughneck." Mark replied.

They continued along their path for another minute or two before the Osean attack helicopter came back on the radio.

"Ronin this Roughneck 1, our UAV support has spotted a large tank force in our AOR, we need a little help beating it up, how copy?"

"Roger that Roughneck, how big?" Mark asked.

"Looks to be a couple platoons of armor, probably reinforcements going south. I'd say about 25 vehicles. Shit we've found a hornet's nest!" The helicopter pilot reported, voice a mix of excitement and surprise.

"Roger that, mop up any AA for us and we'll make a few runs for y'all." Mark replied.

"Sure thing." The AH-65 pilot replied.

"Okay Saber I'll make my run first. I'll need y'all to watch my back." The tall muscular pilot said as the two fighters made a sharp left and over dry land.

"Roger that." Eric said.

They ascended to 12000 feet, just below the clouds. Below more signs of scattered snow dotted the green landscape. Eric reached down and selected his targeting pod in the front right fuselage station. The weapons panel display switched to the camera.

Eric looked forward as they continued inland. Mark had dropped a little lower to look for the NLA vehicles.

"Ronin this is Roughneck 1, we are engaging the leading convoy at this time, standby for coordinates." the AH-65 pilot spoke up. Eric watched as the information appeared on another display and was translated onto the radar

"Roger that Roughneck, coordinates received." Eric radioed. He slowed and

Mark spotted explosive flashes below along the side of a large hill. He selected his GBUs. The pilot stayed level as he flew in parallel to the road. On the weapons display the crosshairs centered on one of the NLA vehicles. The pilot depressed the button twice and sent two GBUs down to their target.

"Ronin 204, bombs away." He called as He pulled back on the stick and flew upwards, flares covering his back.

"Good hits Ronin, Good hits." Roughneck 1 complemented.

Eric armed his own GBUs and came in down the same path as Mark, nose slightly towards the ground. The F-21's wings came forward as he glided in, laser giving a pathway for the smart bombs. The surprise had worn off now, and sporadic bursts of tracers floated up at him. Eric ignored them to a degree and when prompted dropped two of his own GBUs.

"Ronin 208, bombs away." He called as he sent flares off and ascended back upwards, banking to the left…

"Serpent Flight, this is Lotus, we have a distress call from a column of armored vehicles to the southeast of you current position. They report they are under attack by enemy aircraft."

Han looked up from his cockpit gauges. It was probably a group of Mirage 4000s or A-10s he thought.

"Understood Lotus, requesting vector for intercept." He-Ping radioed.

"Threats are on vector 140, 281 kilometers from your current position." The AEW plane reported.

"Understood, all Serpents follow me. Serpent 7, Serpent 10, keep our rear area clear

Junior Lieutenant Hun Shi-Mei in Serpent 7 and First Lieutenant Lim Sze-Weng in Serpent 10 slowed and left the formation, ascending to an overwatch position to guard against any attempts at sneak attacks.

Han and Chen were parallel with one another, weapons armed and ready. Under Captain He-Ping's orders, they were not to engage their radars until the element of surprise had been lost. Han had equipped his IRST and selected his AA-11s.

The Linese pilot pushed his machine down towards the earth, leveling out just a few hundred meters off the ground. Han's blue eyes stared intently at the HUD as he closed in. He would have to make his shot count on this first pass. On the horizon

"What the hell? I'm locked!" DJ shouted as he pulled out of his bomb run. Eric looked over at his friend and saw a flash in the distance. Behind it was a J-11.

"Heads up DJ, on your left, 3 o' clock!" the blonde shouted as he jettisoned his remaining bombs.

"Shit, where they come from? Roughneck flight bug out, bug out now!" the lead AH-65 shouted.

DJ began to pull away and ascend, abandoning his air-to-ground weapons as well. As the first flare fell away the AA-11 detonated right next to the F-21, hitting the Osean fighter with all its force. DJ's Thunderhawk sailed forward and down into the thick woods, igniting trees in the immediate area.

"They got DJ!" Eric shouted, wide-eyed.

"Sonuvabitch." Mark spat.

Eric watched as the J-11 that had bagged DJ flew on, making a pass at the AH-65s, who'd scattered like mice. He armed his M61 and turned after the NLAF pilot…

Han's eyes caught the F-21 descending on him as he downed one of the Osean helicopters. The rest were hugging the treetops, daring the faster machines to try and get them. Han ignored the easier prey and turned into the new threat's attack. The F-21 slid below and out of sight for a brief instant as he ascended before reappearing and closing in. soon after tracers began to fly from its gun. Han broke right as the Osean fired, daring his opponent to come and challenge him.

They ascended towards the clouds, Han working to keep just out of his opponent's reach. They zeroed in on a large cloud, and Han went into afterburner…

The J-11 went through a cloud ahead. Eric's finger tapped hesitantly along the throttles for a moment before he pulled away and avoided the potential trap. He came around the grayish puff and saw the J-11 had slowed its ascent. Eric threw back his throttles and hit the speed brakes. The F-21 nearly stalled as the Flanker almost seemed to float by, regaining speed once his trick had failed. Eric fired another quick burst as the J-11 left its ascent and went over Eric's head in a half loop. Eric followed and they began going at it in a rolling scissors, trying to gain the advantage. As they crossed, the Flanker coming from the right, the Linese pilot stared down at him from behind his black visor. Below his canopy were 11 black X's, and the number 332…

Han noted the ten kill markings as the Osean stared up at him from behind his mask and visor. The pilot passed over the F-21 and immediately turned back into him as his opponent did. The Linese pilot armed his remaining AA-11 and prepared to move in for a kill. He saw that the Osean had no close-range Sidewinders, just a pair of AIM-120s and however many more shells were in his gun. The display box encased the F-21, who upon being actively tracked broke the scissors and tried to regain the upper hand by turning and going in the opposite direction of the PLACAF pilot. Han wasn't about to let him get away and followed after the Osean.

As the Thunderhawk came around more, turning into Han's attack and slowing to force him to undershoot, the Linese pilot slowed down even more than his enemy. The AA-11 searched for a definite lock on the F-21's engine exhausts. The F-21 let off flares and broke right, running northwards. Han gave chase, his weapon going for lock-on again. The Osean resorted to trying to outrun his pursuer…

Eric looked over his shoulder as he tried to outrun the NLAF Flanker as it again went for lock. The ECM was beeping frantically in his ears as he pushed past Mach 1 in full afterburner. He raised his altitude. If this guy had his number, he didn't want to be that low to the ground.

"Tex, Dart, where are you guys? I'm engaged defensive here and this guy's got me cornered." He radioed, his voice tense.

"I'm engaged with two bandits, unable to help Saber." Tex replied.

"Guardhouse this is Ronin 208, we could really use some help here." Eric said.

"We understand 208, we're trying to get some, hold on." The controller assured. The ECM picked up.

"Buster man, buster!" Eric barked as he hauled the Thunderhawk into another violent maneuver. "Buster" meant move, bust your ass.

The Flanker came at Eric from the left. The ECM was beeping frantically again as Eric went to maneuver, before his HUD went red…

"Fuuuuuuu-"

Eric's long, frustrated call was cut off. Mark looked around as the AA-11 being fired at him fell to a burst of flares.

"Saber?" he radioed. Silence…

"Saber, Ronin 208, respond." He said, raising his voice. Still nothing.

"Ronin 204, we don't have him on radar." Guardhouse spoke up.

The words sunk their teeth into Mark, but he was too busy trying to stay alive himself to let them have any affect. Part of him wanted to do something, but if he let his emotions take charge he'd be joining his friend, whatever fate Eric had met.

"We've managed to get some help, they're inbound. Call sign is Leo." The E-12 reported. Mark let out a grunt of acknowledgment.

"Dart, where are you?" he radioed.

"Engaged defensive at you 9 o' clock." The pilot responded.

"Roger, don't try and run, just keep em from getting a clear shot. We've got friendlies inbound." He instructed.

"Got it Tex." The other pilot responded.

Mark looked over his shoulder as the J-11, lacking Archers now, closed in for a guns kill. Mark turned right and out of his pursuer's frontwards line of sight and dove for the deck. Above him another Flanker had joined the fight…

Han slid into an overwatch position for Chen as his wingman pursued one of the remaining F-21s towards the ground. The attack helicopters had managed to slip away in the face of overwhelming odds, leaving the two naval fighters to face the Linese pilots.

"Serpent flight be advised, we have identified additional hostile contacts approaching. Vector 020, 220 kilometers and closing." The AEW plane reported.

"Understood Lotus." He-Ping replied.

Han stayed high and behind his friend as they turned towards the coast. The Osean appeared to be running for safety like the other had just tried. The F-21 then broke hard left into Chen's attack, turning north again. The two followed.

"Watch out, he's trying to get us to overshoot." Han realized.

"I know Serpent 3, I know, don't let him." Chen replied.

Han selected his gun and moved to herd the Osean into position for his friend. The Flanker pilot pushed his machine in closer and sent rounds arcing over the Thunderhawk's cockpit as it began to ascend. A few caught themselves in the planes right wing.

"Hey Serpent 3, don't get greedy, he's mine." Chen half-joked.

"Then get a good angle on him." Han replied in the same way.

The F-21 made another tight turn, his wings fully extended. Han and Chen knew he was playing around stall speed now, and it was only a matter of time before the Osean was easy prey…

Mark needed airspeed, NOW. He would have to risk being an easier target until he could have more speed to defend with. As he made his turn he slid his nose towards the ground and gave the throttles a push, casting a quick glance at the hits on his. The F-21 went past the two J-11s and leveled out, going back down towards the ground in a shallow dive. He looked around and saw Chris still alive, both of his pursuers behind and above him. He opened his mouth to tell Guardhouse to get their reinforcements here now when an Emmerian accented voice spoke up.

"Ronin, this is Leo 1, we are entering the fight, standby."

"Good to have you here Leo 1, they're all yours!" Chris shouted, happiness filling his voice…

"Incoming!"

Han looked up and saw four black dots to his right. His RWR equipment began to warn him of incoming missile of the radar-guided type

"Serpent 4, break!" he called as he left the F-21 for the sake of his own survival.

He looked over for the missiles. They'd gotten a good angle on him, and he'd have to find a way to get behind their electronic eyes. Han turned away from them to outmaneuver them better. He looked over his shoulder and saw Chen coming after him and the Osean turning towards his rescuers.

"Serpent 4, follow me." Han ordered as the volley of missiles closed in even more.

"Understood." Chen grunted.

The two J-11s ascended sharply and began a loop, but the radar warning didn't stop. Han saw a second volley of weapons coming as they went inverted. He pulled back the stick even more and looked over at Chen's jet. As they came down. He saw one of the missiles coming up to get Chen. He called for his friend to break a second too late. Han's J-11 shuddered violently from the concussion of Chen's own fighter exploding. Han gritted his teeth and dove, rolling and going under the missiles as they closed in.

"Serpent Leader to flight, disengage and proceed north." He-Ping radioed…

Mark watched as the Emmerian Navy Rafales went by overhead to shoo away the marauding NLAF pilots. He looked around and after a minute saw Chris's F-21 catching up to join him.

"Ronin, this is Leo 1, are you still with us?" the Emmerian voice asked.

Mark looked back over his shoulder at the Rafales.

"Yes, thank you Leo, they're all yours." He said.

"Understood, Leo flight is engaging fleeing enemy fighters."

Mark pried off his mask and looked over at the damage to his wing. The 30mm rounds had gone clean through his wing. He looked at his fuel gauge. He was leaking JP5, but in a very small amount, though he'd burned through some in his last few maneuvers.

"They didn't make it, did they Tex? Saber and DJ." Chris spoke up.

"No…they bought it Dart…" he drawled. His eyes looked sadly at the picture of Sarah he kept with him. The sense of guilt that he was going home alive and his best friend was gone weighed heavy. Guess all Bradford men really do die in their planes he thought.


	21. Chapter 20: Breakout

**_Author's Note: Since the Navy uses the F-21 I'd imagine the F/A-18E/F would get better sales with the Osean Marines (plus the legacy Hornets would be old by 2024). More GRAW references plus one for Battlefield: Bad Company._**

_Chp. 20: Break Out_

_November 10, 2024_

_Gin-Fao-Ma, South Cholina_

"Incoming!"

The loud, ominous whistling of rockets drowned out even the radio calls as they hit. The number of incoming shots wasn't large, but enough to get some chins into the dirt. James hunkered down away from the side of the gate as the barrage ran its course. He slid up his monocle and pulled down his goggles before replacing the piece and switching to thermal. The Emmerian next to him, FAMAS sporting a gun camera, did the same with his own thermal viewer.

"Fuck was that inaccurate!" One of the Marine tank crewmen spat as the dust began to settle.

"Oh so you WANT it to be ACCURATE?" someone else asked.

"Cut the chatter, anyone see anything?" Garvin spoke up.

"Nothing Sarge." James said, poking his head around the corner.

"Everyone keep your eyes open, they'll be coming…" Lt. Louis Aubel spoke up.

The first indication would come from the Osean M11 and the two Emmerian Challenger 2s watching the large square outside the temple gate. All the foot soldiers had gathered in the safety of the temple (safe because the NLA appeared to not want to destroy it).

"All elements, be advised we've got a link to an Air Force MAV overhead. I've got eyes on NLA heavy forces setting up to the north." The Air Force FAC, Staff Sergeant Paul Hart, attached to the marines reported.

"Understood Hart, keep us updated." Garvin replied.

"Rog, ah shit they just bagged it. They know we're here." The man replied.

By now the smoke was settling onto the ground and clear vision was once again returning to the allied soldiers. James heard the clanking of treads coming from the direction of the battered buildings across the street. The M11 responded with a shot from its main gun. Back and above Emmerian and Osean soldiers in the upper stories of a building began to pop off rounds as the assault came. James had a rather poor vantage point near the gate and would have to expose himself a good bit to the NLA to get a decent shot.

"Lieutenant, we will deploy smoke to allow troops to advance into the square, how copy?" one of the Emmerian tankers barked.

"Do it!" Aubel replied.

With a soft hiss a white veil began to descend onto the area in front of the temple gate. James, Jose on the other side, ran forward towards the bus station across the street with a few other marines and Emmerians. The NLA were still on their way, but the three tanks working to pin them down.

Even though he had a better shot, the only cover James could find was behind a small ticket machine. He knelt down and peeked around the corner. Sure enough bright orange and yellow figures were ahead, and they weren't friendly according the IFF.

James poked around the side of the machine and milked the trigger several times at the oncoming NLA troopers. As two fell they returned the favor, forcing James had to hunker down even more as the machine was punctured by bullets. He could hear them thumping and even whizzing by his head only inches away. Jose was quick to get his friend out of trouble with his M250. One of the Emmerian soldiers, taking cover behind a small structure used to hold advertisements, motioned to the Osean.

"I'll cover you!" he assured, raising his own weapon towards the NLA soldiers.

James pushed himself forward and ran for the newer hiding spot. The peacekeeper fired a pair of three-round bursts from his FAMAS and James slammed against the sign.

"Thanks man, I owe you." He replied.

"Oui."

James kept the other side covered while the Emmerian fired several more rounds. One of the Challengers was advancing up the street to the left, machine gun atop its turret barking away.

"Bravo 2-1 move up, go!" Garvin ordered.

"Same to you guys, Bravo 2-3, advance!" the other squad's sergeant ordered.

About a minute later several marines came rushing by, rifles spitting out 6.8mm rounds. James followed his fellow grunts as they advanced from the bus station to a front of small shops. On the two streets that boxed in the businesses were the burning remains of Type 91 IFVs and several dead NLA troops. The marines and Emmerians continued forward and towards their ultimate goal: the highway. Hopefully the Osean Army's 25th Cavalry, which had been part of the lightning spearhead to drive back the NLA invasion, had reached this far north.

"Bravo 2-1, 2-3, this Chariot 2. We're gonna flank around towards a larger road a couple blocks onwards, try and set up a forward position with Gavial 5 and 6. See you boys there, how copy?" The M11's commander radioed.

"Understood Chariot, good luck." Garvin radioed.

"Roger that, we'll radio if we encounter anything."

Garvin had the squad hold in the temporary safety of the destroyed Type 91s to report in.

"Variable 6 this is Bravo 2-1, come in." Garvin radioed.

"Go ahead Bravo 2-1." The Battalion's CP replied.

"Variable 6 be advised we have linked up with friendly peacekeepers and are proceeding towards the highway, how copy?" He reported.

"Understood Bravo 2-1, we'll try and get you some fast air with the AA threat thinning out. Good luck." The voice on the other end replied.

Lt. Aubel, being the senior man on site, ordered the soldiers (the two squads of Osean marines and two squads of Emmerian infantry) to spread out on the two streets and sweep for any NLA troops that may have hunkered down until after the tanks had pushed on.

Garvin put James on point as they and a squad of Emmerians went down the street to the right. The young man felt sweat sticking to his short brown hair under his helmet as things quieted down. The tanks still rumbled away nearby and farther out the mixed sounds of fighting echoed softly. His eyes swept around and noticed something on the roof of a fish store. As his eyes focused, gunfire erupted from above. James immediately strafed right and under a shop awning and knelt down, ACR aimed to the roof where he'd seen the shadow. An NLA trooper appeared, weapon aimed at the Osean. James fired twice and took down the threat, but another Linese soldier took his fallen friend's place. Behind James Izzy opened fired too, peppering the windows of the top floor. The Emmerians across the street did the same to the roof above the marines. A Type 88 opened up above the heads. Forcing the Emmerians to find cover. Another Type 88 sent the marines into the same situation. Bullets sent pebbles of concrete flying up and collapsed a few small signs in front of the shop. Once inside, Garvin ordered Jose to return fire with his M250.

"Okay, Izzy, Roth, get upstairs and clean out any hostiles. Bradford, Slinger you're with me." The blonde ordered.

Garvin, James and the heavy weapons man set up to help provide extra support to Jose. James kicked over a table and knelt behind it, putting rounds through the front display window and towards the Type 88 above. The Emmerians did the same, resulting in a countering of crossfire with crossfire. James hunkered down and gave his ACR a fresh magazine. Suddenly a grenade bounced down and into the room.

"Hit the deck!" Slinger barked.

His eyes wide at the sight, James laid flat against the ground as the weapon went off. The concussion slammed against everyone in the immediate area. James felt the table hit him and splinter in several places. Soon after Jose resumed firing at the NLA troops.

"Everyone okay? Report." Garvin asked.

"Up." James grunted.

"Up." Slinger reported.

"A little fucked up but I'm up." Jose replied.

"Up and have clear the nest Sarge." Izzy reported.

"Roger that, regroup on me." Garvin ordered.

The marines came down from upstairs and with the fire subsiding, went outside. The Emmerians had taken a casualty, indicated by the snow white bandage with a red stain on one man's upper arm, but none had died (in retrospect, since the marines had arrived at the temple). Suddenly the quick, concentrated boom of tank guns erupted.

"Bravo, Nostradamus, be advised we have come into contact with more NLA forces to include heavy armor and RPGs positioned around and in a small business park." The M11 radioed.

As they reached the larger road the tanks had raced to, James spotted a pair of burning Type 91s across the street. A rocket flew forwards from an office building to greet the foot soldiers, exploding the sign above and behind them. James spread out onto the ground and fired several blind shots back across the four-lane road. The M11 fired another round and slowly began to advance. Two RPGs exploded before it as the Guard Fence paid itself off in results.

"Jose, lay down suppressive fire!" Garvin ordered.

The Olive-skinned marine chopped away at the unseen NLA soldiers as Garvin pointed the squad towards a drainage ditch in the center of the road. James ran for the cover with the others, no longer in a single file line. Izzy was still firing as he ran before he was the first to make it to the trench James increased his pace and heard another whoosh. A second RPG round came screeching towards him. He had barely managed to let out an exclamation in the form of "oh shit" before it exploded behind him. An invisible force threw the brunette marine forward. He tumbled violently across the concrete, rifle leaving his hands. James was thrown to the lip of the ditch and tumbled in as nests of Type 88s sprayed the oncoming attack. He slammed down hard and his vision went black…

…"Brad, you okay?" Roth asked…

The medic's voice seemed muffled and far away. James could swear he hadn't been out as long as it felt. His head swam and tried to get itself in order. Mom? Dad? Eric? His brain raced around without direction. Had he been hit? Oh no he had? Was he beyond help? Okay? He wanted his hands to move but they didn't feel it.

"Brad…come on Brad, gimmie a sign buddy…"

The second iteration of his name was followed by a few soft slaps to his face. James's eyes burst open and he stared up. He felt concrete to his rear and his ears were ringing enough. Bright orange tracers zipped across the late afternoon air above in sporadic intervals. He soon saw Roth's gray eyes staring down at him.

"That's it Brad, are you okay? Nothing hurts?" He asked. James shook his head. Roth nodded in approval.

"Don't need me to hit you with a med injector?" He asked. James just felt soreness, no sharp pain.

"I'm not shot am I?" he asked, unable to hide the anxiety in his voice.

"No, you just got knocked around a little, and you can thank this." The corpsman said, thumping the tactical vest James wore with his fist.

"You're a lucky sonuvabitch Brad." Slinger chuckled as James sat up and was given back his ACR.

"Or unlucky cause if you'd gotten shipped out you would've gotten the chance to hit on a Navy nurse." Izzy added as he slapped a fresh magazine into his rifle.

"Fuck you Izzy." James said to the redhead as he took up position on the slope of the ditch.

Jose had lowered the bipod of the M250 and returned the volley of fire the NLA gunners were throwing at the mixed force of Oseans and Emmerians. James potted muzzle flashes from the building to the right and from the low wall that boxed it in. He directed his own fire at the broken windows. Through his thermal he saw a figure with a cylinder-shaped weapon on his right shoulder. James, accepting of a chance for a little payback, adjusted the rifle in his hands and waited for the man to stop As the NLA trooper leveled his weapon to fire it out a shattered window. James shot three rounds, and watched as the man fell back, weapon falling from his hands.

One of the Challengers sent a round into the building's third floor. Grayish-brown smoke billowed out with a violent orchestra of shattering glass and brick. The tanks then began to move to get across the road and towards the remaining NLA soldiers. Just then a loud screech was heard from above. James stopped firing and looked to the right as a jet came down from high above. He saw several rockets zip ahead of it and whipped his head to the left as they passed over and impacted against the M11 and several troops around it as the MBT crossed an intersection. The Bulldog came to a stop, now torn up and ablaze. Another jet made its run, trying to strafe the marines. Tall, thin geysers of concrete spewed up behind them, accompanied by the sound of high-pitched whizzes.

"Enemy fast air!" Izzy shouted as the second JH-7 strike jet passed over, letting off flares as it climbed from its run.

"Slinger, get the fucker!" Garvin barked.

The man nodded and slid down the trench to get better cover. He slid the Zeus missile launcher around and in front of himself. He'd already loaded in the anti-air round prior, much to his own relief. Slinger raised the Zeus to the sky and pressed his eyes against the targeting box. The JH-7s circled above, moving to make another pass at the helpless soldiers and tanks that had survived the first run. He licked his lips a little in concentration as one of the Linese fighters seemed to be making a turn towards them. The missile had solid lock on the heat being generated by its engines. He waited and as the steady tone buzzed away depressed the button as the Linese jet came in for another run.

The missile forced itself out of the tube and went up to meet one of the JH-7s. James watched it go with innate awe and a hope that the missile would find its mark. Sure enough it did, and as quickly as it had come The JH-7 was destroyed in a brilliant flash. The other made a run as Slinger reloaded, scoring heavy wounds on the two Challengers as it ran away, another marine firing a Zeus at it. The machine responded with flares and disappeared.

"Damn fine shooting Slinger, damn fine." James nodded.

The NLA troops had been revived by the support however, and kept the Allied soldiers confined to the trench. The Challengers, though unable to move, could still use their weapons. They sent more rounds from their 120mm guns across the street and into the buildings. Part of one fell forward onto the ground, throwing up smoke and bits of concrete.

"Now, go! Take the buildings!" Aubel ordered. Down the line one of the Emmerian soldiers lifted up his FN MAG and fired from the hip.

"For Emmeria!" he shouted angrily.

The other soldiers around him let out cries and shouts as they charged across the street, thirsty for the blood of the North Linese soldiers. The marines followed the charge and once again performed a frantic run the next available cover that was the low wall and fallen parts of the office buildings. James slid out a grenade from its pouch, pulling the pin as he ran. He stopped only long enough to hurl the explosive towards the remaining NLA troopers.

"Flush them out; the highway is beyond these buildings." Aubel instructed.

Garvin lead the squad towards the building whose front entrance hadn't been blocked by rubble. The marines, still recharged from the spontaneous charge, ignored the shattered glass on the ground and split into two groups, weapons raised and movements akin to a SWAT team. Dead NLA troopers lay on the tile floor, some still holding onto their weapons, bringing a chilling personification to the phrase "They can have my gun when they pry it from my cold, dead hands."

On the other side of the room, a lobby, was the entrance to an inner courtyard. Before going across the lead man for the two halves of the squad covered down the left and right hallways as the others crossed. Another squad did the same as Bravo 2-1 moved forward into the courtyard. NLA soldiers had retreated to the other side and greeted the marines with fire. James and Izzy, along with the Air Force FAC (who seemed to have popped out of nowhere) took cover behind a bush in a raised berm. The FAC, armed with an HK416, began hammering windows above the courtyard.

The NLA troops that'd once been putting up a fierce defense were now crumbling and it was becoming less and less hectic. The fire died down soon enough and the marines advanced to the other side of the courtyard to flush the remaining NLA troops from the structure. Things were about to get very close-in. James spotted and NLA trooper running towards the opposite door from some stairs. He fired several rounds from the hip, striking the man in his right arm and side. As he ran pat the crumpled body he felt rounds whizz by right behind him. He looked back to see another dead NLA trooper and Izzy's ACR pointed at the corpse. He nodded at James, who returned the gesture.

Beyond the office buildings was another road that ran next to the highway above. As it came into view for the Allied troops, so did a line of about six Type 92s. James felt himself backpedalling as the machines sprung their ambush. The frantic run back to the safety of the courtyard that was in the middle of the business park was quick and chaotic. James ducked behind another berm along with the FAC, who immediately got out his radio as another volley of rounds impacted the area. The superior Type 92s seemed content to wait, and just chip away at the foot soldiers. Izzy joined them on the berm and grabbed the FAC tried to fire a few rounds in defiance from his HK.

"You know what to do!" he barked. The man nodded and slid back, taking the receiver off its hook.

"Variable this is Bravo 2, requesting air support in Kill Box 6 Charlie, heavy armor's got us pinned down and we are without support, how copy?" He radioed. He got no response and checked the radio. It looked fine to him.

"Variable this is Bravo 2; we're under heavy fire by enemy armor on the highway. We have lost one of our tanks and the other two are immobilized and unable to help, we need support now, how copy?!" the FAC yelled. There was silence in return. The FAC was about to repeat his call when a round landed close. He pressed himself against the dirt as shrapnel landed around him and James.

"Variable this is Bravo 2, we're under heavy fire by enemy armor on the highway, do you copy?! We need support!" the FAC repeated, his voice getting angrier.

"We copy Bravo 2, calm down. We've got a pair of birds inbound now, call sign Blaster plus a pair of Cobras, call sign Thumper. Stand by." The CP replied in a much calmer tone than the FAC who was under fire by NLA tanks.

James pressed even more against the wall as another round's shock reverberated through the courtyard. Another round hit, shattering several windows a few stories up and raining down glass on the marines. James hunkered down as tightly as he could at this point, the next step up digging a hole in the ground.

"Bravo 2 this is Blaster 3, lead for flight of two. We're inbound now moving on a South-North line. Requesting guidance, how copy?"

"Blaster this is Bravo 2, we are pinned down by enemy armor in Kill Box 6 Charlie. We are unable to properly laze." The FAC radioed.

"Roger that 2, deploy an IR strobe or smoke to give us your position, how copy?" the lead pilot asked.

"Understood Blaster." The FAC said. He pulled out the device from his vest and flipped it on.

"Blaster IR is deployed, do you have a visual?" he asked. From the left came the low rumble of jet engines.

"Roger that we've got it, standby." The pilot radioed, easing back the throttles and pushing the control stick forward.

From high above the two Marine F/A-18F Super Hornets dove below the clouds and towards the highway. In the back of each plane the WSO worked carefully so as not to damage the highway as the 25th Cavalry was moving up it. With a call of "bombs away" they each let off a GBU-12 laser-guided bomb. As each machine pulled out of its dive the 500-pound weapons sailed onwards towards the ground. The marines saw the weapons sail down and within a second, detonate on the NLA tanks.

"Looks like good hits from here Bravo 2, we're Bingo fuel at this time and bugging out. Thumper should be on station in two, good luck." The lead F/A-18 signed off with.

The two fighter-bombers left the scene, contrails marking their exit. The firing had died down as the two remaining Type 92s tried to get organized. A minute later came the sound of rotor blades, and the sealing of the NLA armor's fate. James looked straight up.

The trio behind the berm watched as the two AH-1Zs came over, missiles flying ahead of them. The Cobras banked in opposite direction to look for any other threats to the ground force. With the sun going down, Aubel went to work addressing other matters, such as helping the Challenger 2 crews. The M11 crew had sadly been killed by the initial air attack…

About half an hour later, as the sun was all but gone, the scouting elements of the 25th Cavalry in their M3 Stallions met up with the force of Oseans and Emmerians.

"Not bad for a day's worth huh?" James commented to his friends as they watched the friendly forces pass by.


	22. Chapter 21: Going Solo

_Chp. 21: Going Solo_

_November 13, 2024_

_OFS Excalibur_

Mark came to attention in front of Commander McGavin. The older man allowed him to go to parade rest.

"Yes Lieutenant?" He asked, though his eyes were still looking at the administrative business on his desk.

Mark gulped but did not speak up at first. He wasn't sure this was the correct thing to do, but part of him felt guilt. It'd sunken in quick after returning from a mission which cost VF-138 two of its pilots, one his best friend. The sound of McGavin's pen hitting the desk rather abruptly redirected his attention.

"Dammit Tex, what is it?" his commanding officer demanded.

"Sir…I would like to…" He began.

He couldn't find the right words, so he simply decided to show his intentions. He brought his right hand around and dropped a pair of golden aviator's wings onto the desk. The symbol of his profession clattered against the wooden surface. McGavin stared at the wings, then their owner.

"Somebody has to take responsibility for the deaths of Lieutenant Bradford and Lieutenant Jones. I was the flight lead sir, and led them in without waiting for proper fighter support." He said, the words now easier to say.

"I request that responsibility be taken by Me, and accordingly punished." He added to the gaping Commander McGavin. There was a long pause before McGavin stood up rather violently, chair falling backwards and slammed both fists down against the table.

"I OUGHT TO HAVE YOU SHOT FOR PULLING SOMETHING LIKE THIS!" He roared at the farm boy. Even somebody as big as Mark Walker was startled by the outburst, but he tried to keep calm and insist.

"But Sir, I-"

"But nothing Lieutenant Walker. I am not going to allow one of my men to march in here and make a stupid decision with his career and ESPECIALLY not his life." McGavin made clear, voice lowered but still very firm.

"You and I both know that a person cannot protect their troops every single time. You made a decision to assist those Thunderheads yes, but you were not expected to foresee the ambush by the J-11s. However if you wish to go through with this I can guarantee you I'll have your ass in front of a committee for desertion." He went on. Mark simply nodded.

"You will be expected to write a letter to Lieutenant Bradford's mother, being his roommate. Lieutenant Malloy will write Lieutenant Jones's family. Am I understood?" he went on. Mark nodded again.

"Now pick up those wings and get out of my sight." McGavin said in a tone of finality, motioning at the golden wings. Mark nodded and took them in his hand.

"My apologies sir for bothering you sir." He said apologetically. He followed the proper procedures and left.

"And don't be too hard on yourself." He added as Mark left.

The tall pilot walked back to his stateroom and sat down in the desk chair. He let out a long angry sigh. His grandfather had mentioned once how hard it was to tell a pilot's family that their son, daughter, brother, husband, etc was dead. He slid back to the filing cabinet and retrieved a piece of paper. The pilot slid a pen from his flight suit's left sleeve and looked down at the piece of paper and sighed. He could only imagine May Bradford's reaction once she got the phone call in about half a day…

…And yet part of him egged that Eric hadn't died due to lack of hard evidence. He wanted to add that and personally reassure her that he was okay. But he didn't want to make that promise if he could back it up fully. He wanted to make that promise to her and Misaki in his letters. He wondered if Misaki was still alive either…

Another pilot's death expunged the feeling of invincibility you had more than the idea of going to war. Before it all you walked around never thinking about going down or getting killed by the bad guys (whoever they were). Civilians always worried about it, especially those close to you. Sarah, despite their generally stable and loving relationship, had been no exception and had even told him she hated that he wanted to be a pilot. She accused him and the others of treating it as a big game…maybe she was right to a degree…

Han climbed down from the J-11's cockpit as the ground crew took over control of the plane. He looked at the AA-12s that were no longer on his wing and fuselage pylons. Three more kills, two South Linese F-16s and a Mirage 4000D, to add to his tally he thought. The man looked over at his wingman that day, one of the newer pilots that'd replaced those lost, including Chen.

"Congratulations on the victories Captain." Junior Lieutenant Shu Fai-Lang said to his superior as he saluted. Han returned the gesture.

"The same to you Lieutenant." He said, trying to sound as sincere as he could. They shook hands and the younger man returned to place kill markings on his jet.

Han had other matters to tend to after the debriefing. The fight two days ago against a flight of Osean F-21s had left an impression on him. Being the squadron intelligence officer, he'd known that the pilots of the Navy and Marine Corps were considered slightly more elite than the Air Force since they operated from ships. That F-21 that had outwitted them both, and then the one that he'd shot down that sported several kills. His concern was the man had ejected, and if he was to be picked up by the Oseans he would be in the air again in due time. Han wanted to report his ejection…but something kept him silent. That pilot couldn't have earned his kill score (around 10 he'd noted) without skill. Han liked a good challenge, so he decided he would spare the Osean the worry of swift capture by reporting him. He hoped the man would be rescued, and if fate smiled on them, he could extract proper revenge for Chen's death through the Osean's death in a proper and equal match. In the meantime he wanted to use his position to see if he could get anything on the pilot of "Thud III"…

There were plenty of downsides to the job of a Naval Aviator like lack of sleep, night landings, and ejecting into enemy territory. Ejecting from your jet was a mix of pain and dread in itself. You were shot from your machine at generally several thousand feet (enough for deployment of your parachute) and by a rocket-powered ejection seat that made you feel like your spine was being crushed under an elephant. At least you got a nice little plaque from Martin-Baker thanking you for proving their product worked.

Then there was being stuck behind enemy lines. For Eric Bradford that was his foremost worry. He long left behind his ejection seat after being shot down and crashing into the forest of South Cholina. His compass told him his was moving westwards at the moment, towards some mountains he'd seen as he'd descended into the trees. From there he hoped he could be in a good position to use his survival radio and get SAR alerted. Even today survival radios still weren't perfect. Limited battery life, the need for a good clean area to broadcast, and the ability to track the signal (just to name a few) could return to bite him in the rear.

The blonde pushed his way through the thick brush with his left hand, SiG in his right. He was glad the silencer had arrived just before the flight, and as soon as he'd gained his bearings, attached it to the barrel of his sidearm. He'd never fired the weapon outside of training, and had only a little experience with rifles thanks to his deer-hunting friend. Eric planned at some point or another (should the need arise) to take an assault rifle. It was more to make him feel like he had a chance than actual protection.

He reached a slope and began to ascend it, weapon now in both hands. Despite the looming cold and darkening sky, sweat pooled on his neck and forehead from the constant walking and climbing. He wiped the perspiration from his face and took in a few breaths, ears still listening for any other sounds, particularly movement. He shook his head a little to throw off a little more sweat and continued to move up the hill. From the top of the hill he could see the small cluster of mountains getting closer than he'd last seen them. He sat down and produced a small pair of binoculars to look at the valley below. Between him and a good reception point was maybe five miles or so of forest with a few clearings, cut part way by a large stream. Not a single example of civilization in sight…

As Eric thought that he spotted something dark gray. The blonde adjusted the binoculars and spotted a tall spire, green overgrowth snaking up it. Around that were more blotches of the same color. He lowered the binoculars and tilted his head. Rock formation? Maybe, but it was kind of randomly placed. He studied it and guessed it was maybe around halfway to the mountains. He looked up at the sky. The sun was slowly becoming orange as scattered rays pierced the clouds. It looked like a good place to stop for the night, especially if those clouds were carrying any kind of snow or rain.

Eric set down the binoculars and sipped enough water to get the dry feeling out of his mouth. He then carefully descended down the opposite slope of the hill, safety on to avoid firing the SiG if he slipped. Dirt clots rolled down as he moved, bouncing a few times before breaking into a multitude of smaller pieces. He dug his fingers further into the dirt to slow down as the ground felt loose, stopping a few seconds until it felt safe to continue down the slope.

He looked back up through the trees as he finally reached the foot of the hill. The pilot could see he was losing daylight, and he really didn't want to camp out in the middle of the forest again. He got on his feet and thumbed off the safety before moving further into the trees. From what he could tell, he still had a long ways to go and he was burning daylight with every minute he didn't move. The blonde swatted away tree branches and brush as he moved with a purpose towards the collection of rocks he'd seen on the hill. He felt like he was pressing his luck with every step of the way. He had yet to encounter any kind of search parties in the form of FLR or NLA troops. Nothing more than the sounds of jet engines high above and out of his view. Each time he thought about it a dozen different thoughts flew through his mind. Were they just waiting for him to get content? Were they watching him? Luring him into a trap? He raised the SiG and looked all around him as paranoia settled in. The pilot stopped and crouched down, waiting for any human sounds…something moved to his left. He turned his head, then the weapon. A bird shot off into the sky, spreading its wings. He sighed and stood up, waiting another minute before moving again. He would've at least expected some kind of large animal at this point…

The pilot continued on, the sound of the stream he'd seen earlier eventually beginning to become noticeable. He looked up. By now it was twilight and the cold was settling in even heavier (evidenced by the fact Eric's breath was becoming more and more visible). He had to keep moving and get across the river. It occurred to him at this point that the water was probably cold. His flight suit would give him some protection, but he didn't want to push things too far.

Ahead the trees were clearing away and the sound of moving water gave Eric the signal that he was closing in on the obstacle. He moved a little faster and reached a short but steep slope overlooking the large stream. The dark blue water flowed across southwards across rocks and fallen trees. He looked down the slope and sighed before sitting down and sliding towards the river carefully. He raised the SiG above his head as the cold liquid engulfed his boots and pant legs. They stopped just below his knees. He'd gotten lucky and found a shallow spot. Eric moved across. The cold water wasted no time in biting at him. Each step felt painfully cold despite the fact only part of his body was wet. He lowered the SiG and kept it oriented towards the far bank, looking down at his path every step or two to make sure the water wasn't going to get deeper. His boots made a sloshing sound with each movement, which felt louder than it should be. He kept himself on edge, waiting for any sound at all. He looked forward and saw he'd reached the opposite bank. Eric hastily made his way into the cover of the trees and turned around, weapon at the ready. Another moment revealed he was still very much alone.

He began moving towards the rock formation again, following his compass to his destination. Only a little light remained now, but he was getting close. Sometime down the road the trees were again becoming farther apart, and that meant he had to be there. The pilot reached another slope and got a full view of what he'd thought was a rock formation.

It turned out to be a temple, dark gray in color. The structure was slowly succumbing to the forest, indicated by the moss on its walls and spires. Eric had never been one for architecture, but this felt like a rather unique place. Still, he'd only seen temples in movies, and in movies they were usually crawling with traps. He proceeded carefully down the slope towards shelter. Part of a wall had collapse and allowed him to get inside the walls quicker.

He looked around at the structure. Its walls and towers stood high above him. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the night. He slid the flashlight he had in his survival gear out of its holster and turned it on. The pilot spotted a large entranceway to what must have been the main chamber on the other side of the courtyard. Part of him didn't like this place. He noted the dragon statues on the walls and the generally eerie air of the place. He half expected this to turn into the movie "Temple of Doom", all he needed was a fedora and a whip. He felt cold precipitation falling on his head and ran towards the entrance.

Beyond the fallen doors was a short flight of stairs upwards. Each side of the stairway was intricately decorated with paintings Eric had no time to admire or even look at in detail. He kept his light and handgun both pointed forward and reached the last step. There was a hall that led further on. Eric followed it and came into an incredible large room. He shone the light around and the beam rested on a large statue. Eric flinched and nearly fell back. He regained himself and moved the light up to the object's face. He realized it was a statue of the deity Buddha. He guessed he was also in some sort of room where the statue would be worshiped by members of the temple. There were a few more levels above his head, indicated by the railings and balconies. He looked around for a place to sleep and found a patch of moss near the rear of the statue. Cold and tired, the pilot sat down on the soft stuff and tried to find the most comfortable position he could. Without any kind of blanket and his wet lower legs, he was far from that feeling, but he felt good to be out of the sleet that was coming down outside…

Misaki watched as the village leaders conversed with Captain Holt and Dr. Horst about things. She was becoming accustomed to life here after nearly a month, and it seemed the people they'd come to help had been happy to help them after the air attack that had destroyed their camp occurred. Their only concern after a while was Holt and his men. The Ustian officer was always doing his best to keep the people from feeling like him and the soldiers were a burden by having them set up their own shelter and dig foxholes that were out of the way. The village head, a man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties with squinty eyes and a handsome face.

"We simply need to find a way to signal to our forces we are okay and we need rescue, but our radio equipment was destroyed in the attack. We were hoping we could simply wait for the invasion to be driven back…" Captain Holt explained.

One of his soldiers, fluent in Linese and English, translated to the chief. The man nodded and looked at his feet a moment before speaking in a firm but raspy voice.

"The chief asks what assurances you can give that the invaders will be driven back."

"Without a longer-ranged radio to receive news I can give him nothing of the kind I'm afraid, I can only hope myself that we manage to catch an allied aircraft that flies overhead." Holt replied grimly. After a few minutes of translation the soldier looked at his commander again.

"He says it would be best if we found a way to do that soon. He fears that the FLR may punish his village for allowing us to stay." The translator said. Holt nodded in understanding.

"We appreciate his hospitality and he can have my assurances I have my men in the hills above the village trying to get us in contact, however the problem is we can't predict when or if any allied aircraft will come close. We are only one outpost among many and our leaders have to deal with the North Linese." Holt explained. The translator did his job and the older man took a longer time before responding. His sentence was short and sounded to the point.

"He will allow us more time, for now." The soldier told his commanding officer.

"I am thankful for his generosity." Holt nodded with a sincere smile and the proper bow of the same nature.

The village's head dismissed the others. Captain Holt told his translator something, and the Peacekeeper left the building quickly. Misaki followed Horst and Holt outside.

"Captain, why haven't we gotten any kind of allied aircraft flying overhead? And how would we signal them?" Misaki asked. The man looked over his shoulder.

"We have an IR beacon for this kind of situation, but our isolated position is probably why we haven't had any luck. All we can honestly do is rely on blind luck that some friendly aircraft will come overhead. If we had a radio we could get up high on the mountain and radio from there." He explained.

"What about a cell phone?" Misaki asked.

"I doubt there'd be service out here." Holt replied. Misaki sighed and nodded in agreement. Holt removed the blue beret from atop his head and sighed.

"We just have to hope. As a soldier I hate to give an answer like that, but it's the only one I can see." He apologized.

"It's okay Captain, I know that feeling well enough. When we were being pushed out of Ustio in 1995, that was often what the officers told us, but in a more optimistic sense. "Just you wait men, the air force will come and save us" or "Just stay strong, we'll stop them and push them back"." He replied with a soft chuckle.

"Except then you knew you were in danger. This valley could be devoid of any hostile forces, or be crawling with it." Holt replied.

Misaki stopped listening to the men talk as they continued down the street towards their "home". She wondered if she'd be stuck here the rest of her life. It didn't seem too bad, a simple life that wasn't complicated by modern technology or politics. The people of this village had lived here for generations and generations and despite having some more modern luxuries like lanterns and clothing the world around them were almost non-existent. If only she could have Eric with her, they could maybe spend their life together here, grow old and raise a family. It seemed nice.

The lodging they'd been allowed was one of the larger houses. Misaki walked upstairs to lie down. She pushed her hand through her short black hair to get out some of the sleet and took off the jacket she'd been given by the soldiers. As she starched out on the cot, part of her began to wonder if the one day she'd been with Eric before the war had been a fantasy…

Eric no longer felt the numbing cold at his feet and lower legs. It should've been comforting, but it was more odd than comforting, odd because now he didn't feel any cold at all; not in his legs or arms, not on his face. He felt warmth instead. He opened his eyes and the dark, cold interior of the Buddhist temple he'd holed up in had been replaced by a peaceful blue sky. The sun radiated its warmth down from its position just above the top of his peripheral vision. Maybe he was dead? He shook his head. No, he was alive…at least he had to be…right?

"Eric…"

The blonde moved his head around as the voice reached his ears. He quickly recognized the owner.

"Misaki?" he asked as he sat up quickly. The Osean looked around for her.

"Eric…" the voice called again.

Eric pulled himself to his feet and looked around. He was in a field of short grass that was as green as green could get. Okay, now he had to be dead he frowned. Green field, blue sky, Misaki calling his name…

The sudden feeling of another person embracing him from behind cut off his train of thought. He felt someone rest their head on his right shoulder he saw two familiar eyes. Misaki kissed him on the cheek and squeezed him tightly.

"Didn't you hear me Eric?" she asked, looking a little disappointed at his surprise.

"Yeah I heard you, but I couldn't find you…" He replied.

"Well now you have…" She said letting go and taking his hand.

"…And we don't ever have to be apart again Eric."

"I'd like that." He smiled back.

"Where are we anyways?" the blonde added. Misaki shrugged.

"Does it matter though?" she replied. Eric grinned softly.

"Not one bit Misaki, not one bit."

Eric took his lover in his arms and made her blush. He didn't care if he was dead or alive, he was with Misaki. The raven-haired woman looked as beautiful as she always did, and made him feel as happy as when they were a pair of young high school students.

"Eric, you'll get me out of here right? You'll take me away and never leave me again right?" she asked.

"I promise, and there's not a thing that'll stop me from it." He assured. She smiled.

"Then you'd better wake up or else you might not be able to." She said. He stared at her.

"Hmm?" he asked.

"Wake up." She repeated, though her pleasant tone and face remained. Somewhere in the background, voices talked in a foreign language, causing the Osean to look up and around…

The Osean's eyes shot open when he heard voices speaking in what he recognized as Linese. He hesitated to move at first, simply taking his SiG in his hand. The noise was still far away, but not so far he could goof around. He doubted they were monks either. The pilot sat up and backed towards the statue even more. There was a small opening that went behind the statue. He backed towards it and squeezed through it quickly. The pilot nearly fell back against the wall, but managed to stand up. The space was small, but he didn't pay any more attention to that than he needed to.

He could make out three voices speaking perfect Linese accompanied by the sounds of boots. He guessed they were probably FLR if they were hostile, considering how they didn't seem to be as cautious as a more trained soldier was. They stopped and Eric noticed the beam of a flashlight. He looked to his right and saw another small gap at the other side of the statue. He began to think what he was going to do. If he could wait until they left he would, but if he needed to shoot them…

The SiG had 15 rounds in it. The silencer would also come in handy to avoid from causing too much noise…wait, what if there were more? Eric froze and listened for more voices or noises. The three unknowns continued to talk to one another and shine their flashlight around, tone suggesting they were talking about the structure or something else casual. He slowly moved further from the open and deactivated the safety. Sweat ran down the back of his neck as they stopped moving. One seemed to suggest something, to which the other two agreed to. He heard gear dropping and felt his heart drop as they continued to talk. He also caught what sounded like the sound of weapons being set down. Eric stopped and listened. They seemed to be staying, and they'd camped out too close for comfort.

At this point, Eric decided it would be better to take them out than wait. He was just too close to them not to be found eventually. He took his time for now though. He needed to make sure he didn't shoot them only to get blown away by even more. He waited and listened until he was sure that there were only three of them. It felt like an eternity before that feeling became firm. Okay, he had them I a good position at the moment. They sounded like they were sitting around, their guard lowered. He slowly sidestepped towards the opening, SiG held firmly in his right hand. For the moment he was unable to point it forward, so he made his movements slowly and quietly.

The pilot carefully emerged from behind the large statue of the Buddhist deity, his eyes to the front. He still couldn't see them yet, and they couldn't see him. The pilot stopped once he was out and held the SiG with both hands like he'd been trained to he lifted the weapon and took a step forward. Suddenly on of the unknowns sounded like he was standing up. He walked away from the other twos' voices. Eric waited a minute and began to move forward again. He made sure the safety was off and stopped just short of the front of the statue. He hesitated for a moment to make sure there wasn't anything that would bit him in the rear when he started shooting. He counted to three in his mind…

The pilot rushed around the corner, raising the weapon so he could see the sights. Two of the men, FLR (considering their civilian and military attire) as he'd guessed, were sitting around a small heater. He aimed at the closest one as the other stared at him with wide eyes. Eric pulled the trigger twice and moved quickly as the one facing him tried to bring his AK to bear on the Osean. Four more 9mm rounds stopped him.

Eric looked around for the third FLR rebel. Suddenly the report of an assault rifle caught his attention. The first two shots missed, but the third slashed at his left arm. Eric stumbled, despite the spike of adrenaline, back but as he lost his balance he kept firing. One lucky shot grazed the rebel's neck just enough to get the man to fall down like Eric was. He fired at the man until the SiG let out a click. Eric scooted towards the statue and leaned against it, breathing heavily. He looked at the wound as it dripped red blood onto the floor. The sight brought along the pain and he carefully maneuvered himself so he could treat it.

Setting down the handgun he took a roll of white bandages from his survival gear and began to wrap the wound tightly so it'd stop bleeding. It throbbed in pain with every move. Eric growled and grunted, letting out a handful of f-bombs as he worked to get himself back into shape to move. The shooting was bound to attract someone's attention. When he finally had the injury covered and a dose of pain killers in his system he stole one of the FLR rebels' weapons, an AK-103, as well as a few extra magazines and his water. He looked at the men he'd killed, and realized the one who'd shot him had just been a kid, looking to be about 17-18 years old. Eric felt a combination of guilt he'd ended the boy's life and pity that a person his age had wasted his life like this.

Eric made his way down the stairs and back out into the open. He left the temple behind and continued towards the mountain, moving as fast as he could without causing too much noise. He ran and ran, and didn't even realize that his movement reopened the wound. He felt a sting of pain and tripped as he flinched. The Osean fell down a slope and tumbled through the thick brush, AK still in his clutches, down a small hill. He groaned in pain when he'd finally stopped…

Eric came to again after an unknown amount of time. Well, he hadn't bled out, so he hadn't been gone too long. He had, however, aggravated the wound even more and added a few more cuts and bruises. He wasn't about to stop though, not by a long shot. He could patch himself up again, drink some water, rest and continue on.

The pilot rolled to his left to throw himself back onto his feet. The pain was a new level now, despite the painkiller. He pulled himself to his feet, his right hand practically fused to the handle of the AK. He began to move more slowly, blood flowing down his left arm. After a few minutes of moving he heard rustling far ahead. The FLR had come to get him. Eric gritted his teeth and leaned against a tree, sliding down onto the ground. He sat against the trunk, managing to level the AK at the direction of the noise. He growled.

"Come and get me you fuckers! I'm right here! Come on!" He barked into the forest.

He gritted his teeth to ease the pain. He saw one of the bushes get swatted out of the way, and to his surprised, saw a man with a blue helmet on. The soldier raised his weapon, a SiG 556, at him.

"Osean!" Eric shouted. The soldier continued towards him, joined by others in the same attire.

"Drop the weapon!" the first man shouted back.

"I'm Osean!" he repeated, dropping the AK. The soldiers came to him without word, and he noticed the Ustian flag on their right shoulders.

"I'm glad to see you guys." He said as he slipped into a peaceful state of unconsciousness. One of the soldiers checked his left arm and noticed how pale he was getting.

"Get on the radio and tell Captain Holt we've got a wounded man coming in." he sad to another soldier, motioning to a third to help him get the man to safety.


	23. Chapter 22: Behind Enemy Lines

_Chp. 22: Behind Enemy Lines_

_November 14, 2024_

_Rural South Cholina_

Horst grabbed Dr. Halon and Misaki as they got word from Captain Holt a patrol had picked up a wounded pilot. The group of soldiers came in, two helping the man clad in flight gear and turning pale as blood seeped from his wounded arm.

"Do you know what did it?" Horst asked as the patrol lead came up. Though he could easily find out, the more he knew prior…

"We believe he may have been shot, but we can't say." The man replied. Horst nodded in response.

"Halon, Kuro, get the medical supplies we salvaged and meet me upstairs. I want to see what we can do." He ordered, following the infantry.

They got the pilot inside and set him down on one of the cots. Horst ripped away a little more of the flight suit to better expose the wound, which appeared to be a gunshot wound. The man was slowly turning pale from the blood he'd been losing so they had to move fast. That was their first problem (thankfully the bullet had appeared to have passed through cleanly).

"Did the bullet hit anything vital?" Halon asked as he came up.

"No, he appears to just have lost a decent amount of blood." Horst replied. He looked at Misaki, who was staring down at the pilot with wide eyes.

"Misaki, what's wrong?" he asked, not wanting her to freeze up at a time like this.

Misaki stared at the pilot's face. Despite the pale tone, she didn't need a second opinion to know who she was staring down at…

Eric had been relatively unconscious since the soldiers had found him. He felt numb all around and his head was swimming in every possible direction. He knew he'd overdone it by running when injured, acting like he was still okay. Now he could easily pay for it with his life unless the doctors they'd mentioned could help him.

He'd lapsed in and out of awareness despite his unconscious state when he felt part of his wound being dealt with. The first was a couple pricks into his arm, and a little burn from the rubbing alcohol. He later guessed one of the pricks had been some sort of auto-injector with morphine in it, because he began to feel numb. After that he didn't feel much else for however long (he'd lost any sense of time), and soon began to wonder if he was dead. No…if he was dead wouldn't he be seeing a light far above to the great beyond? Hearing God calling him to his judgment for his actions on Earth. The fear of death and the following judgment for his life, good and bad came in. He felt cold sweat on his forehead. Something soft wiped it away.

"Calm down Eric, it's okay." A familiar voice said in a motherly tone.

Eric opened his eyes. Misaki was looking down at him with a soft smile.

"Good Morning." She said.

"Good Morning." He replied, a little surprised she was here.

"I'm not dreaming am I?" he asked, eyes drifting around. She giggled and leaned down, kissing his forehead.

"No Eric, you aren't."

Eric wanted to hold her. He tried to push himself upwards so he was sitting rather than lying, but the move immediately sent a sting of pain through his arm. He went back down with a pained grunt.

"Don't exert yourself too much; you need to rest for now." Misaki said.

He nodded and she laid down to embrace him. Neither said a word to each other for a minute. Eric couldn't feel happier right now. After a minute he heard Misaki crying.

"What's wrong?" he asked, surprised and concerned. He sat up a little and looked at her.

"You had me worried dammit!" she said between sobs.

"I was afraid…I'd lose you." She went on, looking at him. Tears ran in straight lines down towards her chin.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise. Please don't cry." He said softly. She wiped away some tears and embraced him again. Eric kissed her to hopefully calm her down. She did as he'd hoped after a few minutes.

"I love you Eric." She said softly.

"I love you too Misaki." He replied.

They stayed in each other's embrace for what seemed like a millennium before another voice cleared its throat.

"I see you're awake." A voice with a Belkan accent.

Misaki let go of her lover and Eric saw an older man standing behind her. He had short gray hair and a small moustache. For his age (somewhere in his 50s or maybe even his 60s Eric guessed) he appeared to be in shape. He probably had to be if he was out here with Misaki.

"How are you feeling Lieutenant?" He asked as he knelt down on the side of Eric's injury.

"Tired and sore." Eric replied.

"Well that's to be expected of a man who's been shot by a rifle. I'm Dr. Michael Horst." The man explained. Eric nodded and raised his right hand so they could shake.

"Well, we've stopped the bleeding and have managed to get the wound in shape to seal up and it should heal soon, but you're still going to need some rest for the next day or two." He went on. Eric nodded in understanding.

"Once that's done Captain Holt wished to meet with you so we can see if you can help us escape." He said.

"I'll leave you two alone. Misaki has told me about you both." He said with a friendly smile. The Shimoji woman blushed.

"Thank you Doctor." She said quietly.

"So why are you guys here? I though you would've had a separate camp." Eric said once Horst was gone. Misaki hesitated a moment before speaking.

"We did…" she began, remembering the rather tragic event.

"…but we were attacked by North Linese jets. The soldiers believe they thought we were some kind of listening post or Special Forces camp." She went on. Her voice cracked a little.

"They killed June during the attack." She added. Eric remembered she'd been with an Osean woman in Hikura.

"I'm sorry…" he replied quietly. She embraced him again and sought refuge from the rollercoaster of emotions she was going through at the moment…

"It seems you're rather lucky my soldiers stumbled upon you Lieutenant, Dr. Horst says you could've easily bled out soon after you were brought to him." the man observed. Eric regarded his upper arm, which still felt a little sore even with a few days of resting and abstaining from anything too physical.

"So how long have you been here? Misaki told me a pair of NLAF jets strafed up the encampment and killed some people." Eric asked.

"It's been close to a month since we were attacked. The attack cost us a few troops, a civilian, and our long-range radio equipment. Our personal radios aren't very good for long range comms, just talking between men at close range." Holt explained. Eric felt a cringe of sorrow at the fact that civilian had been Misaki's friend.

"Even worse, since then we haven't seen a jet in the sky, friendly or otherwise." Horst added. Eric frowned and sighed.

"I hate to say it gentlemen but when the NLA came marching southwards they did it so fast the frontline was changing by the hour. They couldn't get to everyone in time and now are more concerned about trying to stop and reverse the NLA advance." Eric said.

"Just like the Schayne Plains." Horst muttered with sarcastic surprise. Eric looked at him.

"I served as a rifleman with the Belkan Army during the war in 1995, when I was younger and more patriotic. The higher ups too seemed to be too busy trying to protect things like Excalibur to get us all back into friendly territory." He explained briefly.

"How far did they get?" Holt asked, getting back to modern day.

"My brother's with the 2nd Marine Division. In his last letter before I was shot down he said they'd stalled the NLA's advance and they were pushing them back towards their own borders." Eric explained. He looked at the map again.

"Anyways getting onto more important things, do you have any way of signaling friendlies if they should pass over?" He asked Holt.

"Just a little thermal beacon, but that's where you come in." the Ustian said.

"You've got your survival radio right? That may not be the best but it's got better range than what we have. We'll place you up on the position we've established on the mountain and you can try and get out a signal. Hopefully its longer range will reach someone outside this valley." Holt said. Eric nodded.

"We'll have to get them in quick too. Those three FLR insurgents you got have to be part of a bigger force. It could just be a few dozen, or they could have a fucking division's worth sitting in the jungle." Holt went on.

"They should be giving us some sort of close air to protect the helicopters as they come in to pick us up. If any FLR division is waiting out there, even just a few A-10s, Mirages or F-35s could do dome real damage and help make things easier." Eric assured. Holt nodded.

"I can't help you on how to deal with things on the ground. I get paid to drop bombs and shoot down MiGs, not command infantry." The blonde added in apology. Holt grunted knowingly.

"I have my men, numbering about 17, dug in and set up in a perimeter facing away from the mountain. We have claymores set up in case they get too close and we can probably surprise them, and considering we haven't come into contact with them until now they must've moved in recently." He said.

"What about the villagers?" Horst asked. Holt looked at them.

"What about them? This is their home, they wish to stay here." The Ustian said.

"We're sure? Did we ask The Head?" Horst went on. Holt nodded.

"Yes, I met with him personally and explained exactly what might happen. He wants to keep his people here, risk regardless." The Captain said, his tone conveying he'd attempted to convince the native of the danger. Eric and Horst understood.

"Well then, I should probably get up to that position." Eric said. He adjusted the AK-103 that was slung over his shoulder. Holt stopped him and held out a radio.

"Take one of our radios; we'll need to stay in contact. My call sign is Fencer Actual." He instructed. Eric nodded and left.

Outside the sky was clearer that morning. Snow had fallen in sporadic bursts over the few days he'd been recovering. He wondered if they'd flown in a replacement for him aboard the Excalibur…maybe, they'd had to for DJ…there was no arguing that the dark-skinned pilot from Oured was gone thanks to the ambush sprung by those Flankers.

As he walked towards the mountain and the path that lead up to a better position to use the radio, he thought about the J-11 that had shot him down. The NLAF pilots weren't second-rate as it was, but that pilot had been….exceptional. The kill tally Eric had seen on the Linese machine was testament to that.

"Eric! Wait up!" Misaki called out from behind.

"Misaki, you need to stay with the others until the helos get here." He said. She shook her head in response.

"You know that whole speech isn't going to work on me, I'd feel safer with you." She said, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

"But this isn't an air raid where we just hop a stray bomb doesn't hit us, we're in the enemy's line of fire and when they start throwing lead, well…the shit's gonna hit the fan pretty hard."

"I can't be any less dangerous than hiding in a hut with the others." Misaki said. Eric sighed.

"Please Misaki listen to me on this just once, I know you missed me and I'd like to see you some more but this is just too dangerous." He said, taking on a dead serious tone. She nodded after a minute.

"I understand." She said, a little embarrassed she'd thought of the idea. The Shimoji woman walked towards Eric and hugged him.

"Be careful Eric." She said.

"I will." He promised.

They exchanged goodbyes and "I love you" before Eric continued on towards the mountain. The trek up was quiet and relatively easy. Once he was above the village enough he found a patch of ground behind a few bushes and sat down, setting his procured AK and the radio Holt had given him on the ground. From his survival gear he took out a PRC-150 survival radio. The small radio could reach out far enough to be heard by anyone. Eric turned on the machine and raised it to the right side of his head

"Anyone on this net, this is Ronin 208, can you hear me?" He asked. There was nothing but soft static in return.

"This is Ronin 208, can anybody out there hear me?" he repeated. This time he got lucky.

"Roger that Ronin 208, standby." A voice replied.

Eric let out a "roger that" and waited. Now would come the reason why Holt had waited until he was rested enough to walk around: authentication questions. These were things HE ALONE knew to avoid the possibility of enemy forces luring in friendly planes in order to shoot them down. It was a strict system and even a man like Holt, who was technically a friendly, wouldn't be fully trusted.

"Ronin 208 this is Phoenix, are you still there?" the voice said.

"Yes Phoenix, go ahead." Eric replied, waiting for the first question. He pulled out one of his maps to relay his position with, having marked the position prior.

"What's the world's best car?"

"68 Mustang GT."

"What sport did your dad play in high school?

"Boxing."

"Your brother's outfit?"

"1st Platoon, Bravo Company, 2nd Regiment, Osean 1st Marine Expeditionary Force."

"Roger that Ronin 208, report your current situation." Phoenix said after a minute.

"I'm down in Killbox 2-Charlie and requesting immediate pickup. I have also come into contact with a small group of UN personnel that also need extraction. I also believe there may be hostiles in the area that are closing in." He said.

"Roger that 208, standby we're fragging you guys some support, sit tight and wait for further instructions, out."

As the radio went silent Eric picked the other.

"Fencer Actual this is Ronin 208, help's on the way, we just gotta wait now.' He radioed.

"Roger that 208, let's hope the FLR isn't in any hurry to come at us." Holt replied from his foxhole in the trees preceding the village.

"Amen to that."…

The six A-10Cs of "Sandy Flight" glided in over the coast, following the instructions of the controller aboard the Osean Sentry, who in turn was getting fed info from the Global Hawk orbiting over the village and radar operators aboard the AWACS. The six escorts, EF-2000s of the Ustian Air Force, were well ahead, keeping an eye out for anything the NLAF might have in the area. Normally it would've been four attack jets and six fighters going in, but the fact that it was not just a pilot they were getting warranted extra support. Far behind them were a pair of CV-22 Ospreys, each carrying four Osean Air Force Pararescuemen (PJs), and the obviously central mission of rescuing the friendlies.

"Penthouse this is Sandy Lead, feet dry at this time." the lead A-10 pilot radioed.

"Roger that Sandy, assume orbit once you're in the box and wait for anything from us or Ronin 208." The controller instructed.

"Roger that."

On the ground Eric watched as the UAV quietly orbited around the valley just below the scattered clouds. He was getting tenser by the moment, thinking about how quick things were about to move once the rescue force was in the valley. The Global Hawk was looking for any signs of the FLR (or even the NLA) in the valley so its controller could direct air support onto the threats. He heard jet engines and looked up to see the RESCAP of Typhoons streak over high above.

"Ronin 208 this is Archer Lead, Sandy flight is lagging a little but they're coming." A voice radioed.

"Roger that Archer." Eric replied. He lowered the PRC-150 and took the radio Holt had given him.

"Lancer Actual this is Ronin 208, air support should be on station in just a few. Anything on your end?"

"Negative, the UAV have anything?"

"I'll check…Penthouse the Hawk picking up anything?" Eric asked, switching radios.

"Yeah, looks like we've got signatures moving towards you guys, controller says he counts at least 40." The AWACS reported.

"Roger that." Eric replied. He relayed the info to Holt before signing off.

Eric set down the radio and looked down towards the village. The FLR weren't going to wait or let them just waltz off. He looked towards the temple and raised his radio again.

"Lancer Actual this is Ronin 208, suggest you go ahead and mark your position with that strobe so Sandy Flight doesn't accidentally hit the wrong targets." He suggested.

"We already have, just make sure they know." Holt replied. Not a second later there were a several loud bangs.

"What was that?" Eric asked.

"Looks like they hit the claymores, let's hope that support hauls a little more ass!" Holt shouted.

Down in the trees the pops and cracks of small arms rose in volume. Eric set down both radios and picked up his AK, setting the black assault rifle in his lap. The Yuktobanian AK series, from what he'd read, had always been a very simple weapon and a favorite among many lower echelon forces because of its rate of fire and large round (though James still insisted after he'd fired one that Western-built rifle were better). He had three magazines to use, although he probably wouldn't be doing much shooting considering Captain Holt and his soldiers were much better shots. All he could do was sit and watch.

Down in the trees Holt came back over the top of his foxhole as the FLR began to get past the claymores. Through the holographic sight he could see bushes moving around as the rag-tag "freedom fighters" tried to push through in numbers against them from across the large stream. His two support teams, boasting MG3s. The weapons chattered away to his left and right as he adjusted his helmet and fired several more rounds.

"Lancer this is Ronin 208, Penthouse says you've got plenty of bad guys coming down on you, but we've got Sandy Flight coming in, two minutes." Eric radioed.

"Roger that 208. All MG teams keep em on the other side of the river, and keep tour heads down, we've got air support coming in!" he barked.

The pilot of "Sandy Lead" peeled off from the formation well before the flight reached the valley, taking another jet, Sandy 1-2, with him to watch his back. Since there was no FAC on the ground, they would be using data from the UAV to guide their weapons onto targets.

"Ronin 208, Sandy Lead here. We're inbound, tell Lancer to get their heads down." he radioed.

"Roger that, they've got their own position marked, can you see it?" Eric replied.

Sandy Lead looked at one of his displays and saw a flash IR beacon among some figures. He looked at the others and selected his cannon.

"Roger that, Lead's rollin in hot." He called as he left his wingman and began to dive at the unmarked infantry.

"Hit the dirt!" Holt barked over the radio as he heard the growing roar of jet engines.

Not a second later there was a sound akin to a chainsaw, only much deeper. It mixed with splintering wood and plumes of water thrown skywards. He looked up to see the devastation that the attack. There were a few hoots and howls from the other soldiers.

"Sandy'll take care of the FLR Lancer, get ready to bug out, Whiplash is coming in as fast as they can." Eric radioed.

"Negative, we'll help Sandy keep the FLR back, get the Doctors aboard the first transport!" He replied.

"Well you'd better pull back then because that's your transport too!" Eric added as he gathered his things and began to make his way towards the village again. It was empty now that the fighting was going on. The other A-10s had arrived and were pouncing on the opportunity for targets to hit. He saw large tracers floating up from the vicinity of the temple. It sent a chill up his spine wondering if he'd wandered into a whole camp of FLR guerillas or if he'd left the place in time. He saw a missile throw itself down towards the source of the firing. They'd probably had heavy machine guns down there.

AK at the ready, the Osean made his way to the building Misaki and the others were in. The shooting was still going, making him wondering if even the six A-10s couldn't hold them back. He knocked on the wooden door, looking around for movement. Off in the distance he saw two specs approaching and hoped they were the helicopters that'd be picking them up.

"Ronin 208, we're retreating back towards the village in waves, do you have the civvies in tow?" Holt asked.

"I'm getting em now, looks like our ride is inbound too." Eric replied, knocking on the door again. Dr. Halon opened it.

"Come on, our ride's coming in!" he barked as another A-10 made a run at the FLR onslaught.

"Ronin 208 this is Whiplash 1-1, we'll grab the civvies and UN troops first, how copy?" a voice said over the survival radio. Eric picked up the device.

"Roger that Whiplash, land to the east of the village, you'll have the most clearance there in an empty field." He replied.

Eric turned towards the handful of doctors and nodded.

"Stick close!" he ordered.

The first Osprey was coming in, its rotors tilting up so it could hover and set down. The second passed by overhead to come around and get any remaining friendlies, a few rockets streaking past it but missing wildly. Holt's men had retreated to the edge of the village and were still trying to fend off what little FLR had managed to avoid the A-10s thus far and get too close for the Thunderbolts to attack them without risking friendly fire. Eric felt Misaki got as close to Eric as she could, her heartbeat and breaths reflecting fear.

"It's okay Misaki, we're almost there." He assured. She nodded without word.

The CV-22 turned its rear door towards them and lowered it as it was a few feet off the ground. From the main bay emerged the four PJs.

"Glad you guys could make it!" Eric said as he stopped to let the unarmed get aboard.

"What about those UN Troopers?" the man who appeared to be in charge asked.

"They should be coming right behind us!" Eric replied.

The gunfight was unnervingly close now as several UN soldiers appeared, carrying a few wounded with them. Eric and the PJs kept them covered as they got aboard. Captain Holt came into view.

"How many do you still have sir?" the lead PJ asked as the officer reached the ramp.

"A few more, we can put em on the other Osprey if we need to!" he shouted, heading up the ramp.

"Okay Lieutenant, we'll take you aboard this one and get the other guys on Greyhound 1-2." The PJ ordered as his men collapsed back onto the ramp. Eric nodded and went up the ramp, taking a seat next to Misaki. She quietly held his hand.

"That was…exciting." She managed with a weak smile.

The Osprey lifted up and away, the other coming down in its place seconds after the field was clear. Eric heard mechanical sounds below as the machine's belly-mounted Gatling gun was lowered from its bay. After a second of mechanical whirring the weapon let out its distinctive sound as it orbited slowly. There were a few moments of tension

"Okay we've almost got them aboard 1-1." He heard over his survival radio.

"Roger we'll continue to-"

"-Shit! RPG!"

Eric tensed even more as the CV-22 made a violent jink. Misaki let out a help, grabbing onto the blonde as the machine jinked even more.

"Get out of there Whiplash 1-1, we're loaded!" the other Osprey pilot barked.

Outside whooshes sounded by quickly as the FLR tried to take the transports down. They moved faster, deciding to let the A-10s cover them as they escaped. Outside more whirring indicated the tilt-rotors were adjusting for forward flight. The Osean machines pulled above the shooting and began moving back towards the coast, the A-10s and the Global Hawk following close behind.

"Helluva rescue huh?" one of the PJs commented.

"That's the understatement of the war." Holt managed to chuckle.


	24. Chapter 23: Back to Normal

_Chp. 23: Back to "Normal"_

_November 14, 2024_

_Kaisato AFB, Shimoji Republics_

The CV-22s settled down on the tarmac of the air base, telling the inhabitants onboard that they'd finally reached safety. Eric stood up as the rear ramp lowered and the PJs walked down and into the open air. Eric followed them and looked around. Misaki followed, joyful tears forming in her eyes. Her feet legs wobbled from the rough flight and lack of experience in a military aircraft. Eric held her steady.

"Take it easy Misaki, no rushing." He whispered calmly. She looked at him.

"We made it." She said. The pilot nodded.

"We did."

She hugged him tightly and let herself cry happily. After a few minutes they were escorted off the tarmac and into a hangar where they were given water. The wounded were taken to the base hospital. A few Ustian soldiers had also been injured during the FLR attack, two seriously. An Osean Air Force medic took a look at Eric's wound on the spot.

"Well, can I still fly?" Eric asked, hoping that what he considered a graze wouldn't get him grounded.

"Has it been hurting or anything of that nature sir?" the Technical Sergeant asked.

"Not really, it's been a little sore sometimes over the last few days but no considerable pain." He replied.

"I think you should be fine then." The medic nodded before rejoining his men. Horst looked over at the pilot.

"Are you questioning my work Lieutenant?" Horst asked with a bit of a smile.

"Just making sure this isn't the end of my career." Eric chuckled.

He looked down at the bandage and sighed. The time he'd spent in the woods, running for his life and trying to avoid capture (and probable interrogation) by the FLR or NLA. If it'd been the latter, he probably would've been forced (or they'd at least try) to make him read off some statement condemning the Allies and their support for South Cholina.

Misaki stayed with Eric, unsure where to go at this point. Despite her disdain for the idea she wanted to contact her father and assure him she was okay.

"So what now?" Eric asked. Misaki sighed.

"I think I'll have to go back to my job in Osea as a nurse, but first I should at least let my father know I'm okay." She replied. They were interrupted by an Air Force man in ABUs.

"Sir, there should be a Sea Scout arriving from the Excalibur shortly." He said informatively

"Thanks Sergeant." The blonde pilot nodded. Misaki wrapped her arms around one of his.

"Back to the tin can then?" The short-haired woman observed.

"Yep, and honestly I'm getting stir-crazy after all this sitting on the ground. I hope they didn't replace me aboard the carrier." The Osean mused. Misaki shook her head a little and kissed him on the cheek.

"You seem to love flying more than me."

"Don't worry, I won't run off with my jet and marry it…" Eric assured before returning her show of affection.

"…I want to do that with you." He finished, causing her to flush.

Misaki wished they could stay there a while. She'd felt like they had spent so little time together, the longest stint had been being at his side in South Cholina. She wanted to change that when he was back and return to how it was in the days long ago, when they were younger. She'd always been concerned about his dream (now reality) of being a fighter pilot. She rested her head against his arm and tried to make the most out of what little time she would have with him.

Eric shared the same feelings (though he couldn't read Misaki's mind). He'd wanted to stay with her a while longer too, just a little. The war had seemed to float away over his time on the ground. It felt almost alien going back to the _Excalibur_, back to fighting the NLAF. That Flanker that'd taken him down was still fresh in his mind, and he felt a small want to get a second shot at the pilot. But for now he could rest assured that Misaki was safe and far from the bloodshed.

"Miss Kuro, we're going to be taken to a hotel for temporary lodging."

Misaki looked at Dr. Horst and nodded solemnly.

"I'll be there in a moment Doctor." She promised.

The Shimoji woman stood up to follow the other Doctors. Eric got to his feet too and looked at her. He didn't know if she got his letter, but he felt it would be better to ask her himself.

"Misaki, don't treat this as being official and forgive me if I screw up, but…"

She tilted her head at him in confusion. He looked away and shoved his hands in his flight suit's pilot and drew in a breath.

"…If I survive this and get back…will you be my wife?" He managed, almost blurting it out.

Misaki was taken aback by the proposal. Sure she'd hoped and expected him to one day ask for her hand in marriage but not this suddenly. But after the initial shock she smiled warmly, let her cheeks turn pink, and nodded her head vigorously.

"Yes, I wouldn't want to be anyone else's." Misaki answered. In an emotional high she threw her arms around her lover. They kissed in farewell, getting a little applause from the others around them

"Come back in one piece, promise that." She whispered as their lips pulled away from each other.

"I will."

Misaki let go of him and followed the other medical staff as they left. Eric let out a long breath and whistled, feeling tons upon tons lift off his shoulders. He felt happy and bewildered at the fact that'd he'd just said that.

"So what's next for you boys?" Eric asked Holt, who along with his men were mulling around the hangar.

"Well most likely we'll be sent home along with whatever other Ustian peacekeepers have been pulled out. Our battalion was deployed all over the place. I imagine after that they'll send us home. We're probably combat ineffective at this point." The army officer shrugged. He took off his beret and scratched his short head of brown hair.

"I'm guessing you'll be taken back out to your carrier?" he asked, looking at the fellow officer.

"Yeah, the injury I got shouldn't get me out of the fight, and to be honest even though I'm going to miss Misaki and would like to be with her a while longer…I want to get back. Even though it's not my personal war, I'd like to finish my part in it if I'm not so badly injured I have to go home." The blonde explained. Holt looked at him.

"Interesting reasoning." He commented. Holt slapped his beret against his hand a few times in thought before speaking again.

"Well Lieutenant Bradford I guess I have to thank you for helping us escape." He added, turning towards the fellow soldier. Eric chuckled.

"I guess I have you to thank for finding me." He pointed out.

"We can settle it with a few beers after this war ends." The infantry commander suggested.

They shook on the idea and Holt went back to his men as he and those uninjured that hadn't been taken to the hospital collected themselves to be moved to temporary lodging. Eric watched the soldiers march away, trying to look as dress-right-dress as they could after weeks in the jungle and a rather violent clash with the FLR. He felt for them, trying to look their best even when they were tired and probably barely combat capable.

A short time later Eric saw a small black speck in the distance. As it grew in size, the sound of rotor blades chopping away at the air. The features of the SH-62B Sea Scout seemingly grew into existence as it came towards Kaisato. Eric stayed behind in the hangar as it slowed and turned. The sleek sub-hunting helicopter gently touched down on the tarmac and Eric ran forward, crouching down as he neared the still spinning blades. They slowed as the machine powered down to refuel. He noticed a familiar aviator leaving the machine to greet him. CAG Monroe stuck out a hand instead of them shaking salutes.

"Good to see you're alive son, I trust you're looking for some revenge against those NLAF bastards?" he boomed over the engine.

"Fucking A sir!" Eric replied enthusiastically…

The members of VF-138 waited on the deck as the SH-62 came in towards the deck of the_ Excalibur_, Eric aboard. Even though the feeling was bittersweet in the wake of DJ's death, the men were still happy to have at least one of their veteran pilots back. Mark looked at the others who were gathered around, including DJ's replacement, an Air Force exchange pilot by the title of Captain Lawrence "Lionel" Mandrake. He'd been spending the past handful of months converting from F/A-22s to F-21s and when DJ had been killed and Eric presumed missing, his orders saw him being transferred to VF-138.

Mandrake had expressed his interest in being able to see some action. Mark and the others found him to be an excellent pilot and that he kept the jibs at the F-21 and Naval aviators on the friendly level. The subtly awkward feeling of being a dead man's replacement was known, but kept quiet by the prevailing fact that they were still at war. Mark had taken Commander McGavin's chewing out as a sign he was being an idiot, and promptly understood there really was nothing he could do to help his friend.

Eric held on to one of the overhead handrails as one of the helo crew slid open the side door. CAG leaned forward in his seat to get out as well as the pilot slowed and the tires met with the deck. The blonde saw his friends waiting for him to return. He left the machine and ran across the deck. The reunion was akin to a fraternity party, with shouting and rib-poking. For now, a friend and fellow aviator was back.

"Glad to have y'all back man. I was getting tired of having to fly with Rattle." Mark said, nodding towards Seth.

"I feel sorrier for him, having to babysit your sorry ass." Eric shot back. More laughs. Eric looked at a smiling Commander McGavin.

"Welcome back Lieutenant, it's good to know you survived." He said. Eric nodded.

"Thank you sir, it's good to be back. After some food and rest I'll be ready to get back in the cockpit." He assured. McGavin nodded.

"Plus a trip to sick bay." Eddie chimed in.

"And now the most important part of this party." Newport spoke up right after the Operations Officer. Eric looked around in confusion until Vixen came forth, a plaque in her hands.

"The folks at Martin-Baker are glad your successful ejection once again proved their product works." The Lieutenant Commander announced, unable to fight her wide smile. She turned the object towards him so he could read it himself.

"Well I'll be damned." He commented with a chuckle. The pilot looked up at his comrades and nodded.

"Well know, I'm guessing I am going to be expected to recall my exploits?" he added. Nods in return. Eric shook his head and smiled. He was once again in his niche…

Misaki couldn't help but feel uncomfortable as the car took her down the coastal highway and to her father's house. She didn't consider it home very often due to the strained relationship she and her father now shared, and she only still associated with him because she was his father and she at least still cared about him.

Her thoughts traded between the impending meeting and Eric's return to the war. She felt it odd that after going through so much, he was just going to be shipped back to the front to fight. She couldn't grasp how he could still fight after his wound and whatever he went through before finding her and her group. She almost wanted to whisk him away for a few days to give him some proper TLC. He deserved it and she wanted it.

The car left the freeway and headed into the small city of Harusaki, where her father had a timeshare. The dark-haired woman collected her thoughts and how she was going to deal with her father this time. If he tried to force another potential suitor on her, she was going to avoid the subject immediately. There was no written guarantee he'd touch on it, but she wanted to have her bases covered…

The ride came to a conclusion at a nicely-sized house on the western side of the city. Misaki let herself out; assuring the driver it was okay. She went up the path to the doors and was greeted by a familiar face.

"Welcome home, Mistress. I'm happy that you have safely returned to us." Yume Ayamori bowed. Misaki looked surprised, then smiled and threw her arms around the older woman.

"Miss Ayamori, it feels like it's been so long!" she said in a joyed tone. The maid was as surprised as her, but smiled and returned the embrace.

"Yes, it has Mistress."

They enjoyed their short reunion before Yume took Misaki to speak with her father. The man was waiting in his study. The woman bowed in greeting.

"Hello father." She began. He stood up and smiled.

"No need for formalities my daughter; I'm happy you're alive." He said. They embraced and for a moment the green-eyed woman let herself smile.

"I was worried when I heard that the North invaded, even more so when I couldn't find out if the UN had managed to pull you out." The businessman went on. He motioned for her to take a seat.

"So what do you plan to do now?" the gray-haired man asked.

"Well, I am still a nurse, so I plan to return to Oured and continue my work." She said. He nodded understandingly and sat back in his own chair. The business man seemed to be searching for how to say something. She shifted uncomfortably and waited for whatever he was going to bring up.

"I know you haven't had much luck in the past, but I want you to consider-"

"Another marriage arrangement?" Misaki finished, her voice growing cold. The man looked surprised, but nonetheless nodded.

"I know you've yet to find a man you find suitable, but that doesn't mean you should give up." He reminded her.

"I have, but you can't see past what he does for a living." She replied. Her father's eyes narrowed.

"I don't need to see past that, and he is long gone." He replied.

"No, he isn't, I've seen him recently. He was here before the war started, and now he's fighting in it." She explained. He seemed shocked, maybe even disgusted.

"You know you are forbidden to see him Misaki. I do not want my daughter to be in love with a killer." He growled. She looked down and clutched her skirt in her hands. She'd heard that line so many times; it had almost become engraved in her mind. There was a long, painful silence as she fought away her tears and decided she couldn't deal with him anymore.

"I'm no longer a little girl. I'm smart enough to know things, yet you think you can still control me?' she asked with a trembling voice. He didn't respond. She glared daggers at him.

"You…you make me ashamed to call you my father. Even when I'm into adulthood and plenty mature enough to think for myself you still treat me like a little girl." She said, her arms shaking.

Misaki left the room and asked the driver to take her to Hikura, where she could see her aunt. Despite her slowly reconstructing composure, she was completely collapsed inside. She didn't want any more of her father, his business, or what he thought was best for her. She just wanted to be alone, until she could throw herself into Eric's arms again and refuse to let him go. She just had to wait until then.


	25. Chapter 24: Hell's Highway (Part 1)

**Author's Note: This chapter draws inspiration from some of the mountainous areas of Japan and the rendition of the Battle of Carentan, specifically how it was shown in the HBO series "Band of Brothers"**

_Chp. 24: Hell's Highway (Part I)_

_November 21, 2024_

_Highway 7, South Cholina_

James's head hung back as he was asleep and blissfully ignorant of the world around him. He was finding that sleeping when you were sitting was just as good as when you were lying down. Especially since it was one of the very few times you were getting shot at or hugging the dirt, waiting for close air support to take out a NLA tank. His mind he was far away from the war too. All he could see was the soft features and warm smile of some yet-to-be-named Linese girl, similar to one that had given him and a few other marines water as they'd passed through one of the many small towns in the plains.

The last 6 days had seen an abrupt change in fighting. The blitz through Gin-Fao-Ma had been its own hurtle, especially when the Allied forces had met the remaining FLR and NLA forces in the industrial sector of the city. James got his first taste of loss after several marines in his own platoon were taken away in body bags. Beyond that lay the bigger challenges though. Until today they'd been slugging it out on open plains, which were a dream come true for the marine tank crews. James and the rest of his fellow grunts begged to differ with the scarce cover when things got ugly. Now they'd reached the fringes of the Ha-Mihn mountain range, which had five major passes. James didn't know how they intended to go beyond them, but for now they would be among varying foothills and forests, and while the infantry could pick their way through, the tanks and IFVs of the Allied task force would be confined to gentle slopes and roads.

As James whispered something sweet into the imaginary girl's ear, a sudden inhuman shriek, accompanied by a quick explosion, swept it all away. The MLAV came to a lurching halt and the 30mm chaingun atop its hull began to chatter in slow but deep bursts, more explosions thundering outside the hull. The marine rifleman looked around at the others in the compartment, trying to get some grip on the situation. He reached towards the side of his head and powered up his monocle and made sure his ACR was ready.

"Jose, what's going on?" he asked. The squad's LMG operator shook his head.

"Gotta be an ambush." He replied quickly, tone conveying an additional remark: isn't it obvious?

"Drop the fuckin ramp!" the vehicle commander shouted.

A few seconds later the sound of machinery at work added to the growing crescendo as the rear ramp lowered. The MLAV's 30mm was now pounding away at the yet to be seen hostiles. The marines left the safety of the AAV and sought whatever cover they could outside. James joined a few others on a slope to the right of the vehicle. He looked further up the road and saw the MLAV in front of them ablaze. Their own MLAV was still firing as it deployed a smoke screen. As James switched the monocle to thermal, He briefly realized it was sleeting. The half-frozen rain pattered down on his helmet cover. As he rested in the grass and kept his head down, their transport began to backtrack down the road. Jose had the 250 on its bipod next to his friend and was providing suppressing fire up the slope as soon as the MLAV was clear. The rifleman saw shapes moving among the trees and raised his weapon. He popped off two rounds at one of them, the adjusted his aim through the sight and fired again. As one of the hostiles moved to a new position the bullet met him in the neck. James watched the figure collapse onto the ground.

He redirected his aim and fired at another hostile. The shooters appeared to be wearing helmets, heavily suggesting they were NLA. At this point James wasn't surprised, seeing as the FLR had seemed to collapse. He fired a few times more and hunkered back down in the grass. Jose swept back and for the before pulling back the automatic weapon to reload it.

"Python 3-3 this is Bravo 2, we are advancing towards your position but have encountered heavy enemy resistance. What is your situation?" Lieutenant Hughes reported, now one of the twenty or so marines hunkered on the slope.

"Bravo 2 this is Python 3-3, we have come into contact with NLA mechanized infantry. We are holding out but we can't do that indefinitely. Try and get here as soon as you can." The leader of a Marine Force Recon team a few miles up the slope replied.

"Roger, we should have some fast air with us too, we can relay if you need." Hughes replied before switching back to his own platoon, giving them direction on crossing the road and flushing out the entrenched NLA.

Jose cut up the brush with his 250 as James slapped a fresh magazine into his ACR. It was a narrow road, making close air support a risky option. Of course, professional pride also dictated that the ambushed get proper revenge on the ambushers. On order James and Izzy tossed smoke grenades under cover fire to keep up the screen. Slinger also let off a rocket from his Zeus into the tree line. Garvin waved his men forward, taking the lead. The Sergeant fired several rounds from his own ACR as he crossed, moving in a tactical manner. He fired several times before once again hugging the dirt on the other side of the road.

James buried his face in the sleet and mud as an RPG came down the slope and just a few feet overhead. Izzy sent a grenade from his M230 up the slope at the Linese positions. The younger Bradford boy tugged the trigger of his rifle several times, taking down another enemy combatant. As he looked around for another target he saw a small green object arcing down at the marines.

"Grenade!" the rifleman called upon recognition.

The brunette tucked his head towards his neck, exposing the top of his helmet to the explosive. It went off several feet away, throwing shrapnel in several directions. As soon as the explosion subsided, Jose let off a burst up the hill towards its point of origin. Behind them the metallic sound of tank treads began to join the plethora of sounds. James looked back to see a pair of the Bulldogs that'd been part of the escort leading the MLAVs roll in behind. One maneuvered around the destroy AAV while the other kept further up the road.

"Okay Bravo 2, keep your heads down, we've got this." One of the crewmen radioed.

The two machine guns on each of the M11s began to chatter away, cutting away at the trees more efficiently than the grunts' rifles and LMGs and reaching the entrenched NLA. The firing died down enough that the infantry officer in charge of 2nd platoon saw an opening.

"Sledgehammer 3-3, 3-4, cease fire! Cease fire! Attack up the slope Bravo 2! Secure the next switchback!" The Lieutenant ordered.

Garvin got the squad on its feet after the M11s stopped firing. Yes siree James thought, once again we go marching off to save someone else's ass. He picked his way through the chopped up bush, splintered trees, and occasional corpse. The NLA had more positions waiting up the slope near the next part of the road. Another one of the M11s fired its 125mm cannon up the slope, throwing up a plume of dirt and sleet higher up the hill. James also noted a pair of burning Type 91s and a Bulldog stuck on the road in the same shape as the IFVs.

The brunette marine hugged the dirt on the opposite side of the road and poked his head up. He spotted a mounted weapon through his monocle. The rifleman instinctively got up a little and raised his ACR, working the trigger twice. Izzy hit the dirt next to him and joined him. The soldier manning the machine gun fell back, only to be replaced by his loader.

"Aw shit!" Izzy cried as they tried to hug the dirt even tighter.

"What, you miss the other guy?" the redhead added as the dirt around the spat up, their only real protection a small boulder.

"Hey fuck you Izzy!" James retorted.

James pulled a frag grenade from his gear and looked at his friend. The grenadier nodded and adjusted so he could hold up his rifle. The marine fired blindly as Corporal Bradford hurled the explosive up the slope. He ducked back down and counted to five. There was loud thump much closer than it should've been. The two let out exclamations of anger as Izzy opened his M230 and stuck in a grenade. Should've done that first James frowned, a little embarrassed. Now under his cover, James heard his friend's launcher make its distinct "thoomp" as it sent the 40mm canister up the slope.

The nest exploded and the HMG it housed went tumbling forward. James lifted his ACR and fired at several other targets maneuvering down the hill. The M11 fired another round; the shell impact a bit closer than was comfortable. James tumbled over as the concussion surprised him. He rolled across the ground and before he could even pick himself up, a hand grabbed his rucksack and hauled him back up.

"On your feet Bradford!" Garvin yelled.

James stumbled a little before he got his bearings back in place. With the majority of the NLA positions knocked out, the remains of the platoon were now charging up the steep hill towards a higher switchback. The charge was quite the haul in a couple dozen pounds of combat gear, especially when the slope was its steepest. The marine dug his heels into the dirty muck and almost threw himself forward towards the beleaguered recon marines.

"Bravo 2! This is Python 3-3! We're getting squeezed real hard here, where are you?"

Speaking of which…

"Python 3-3 we've run into heavy resistance, light armor and infantry. Can you hang on a little longer?" Stuart replied.

"I don't know, we've encountered some heavy armor, be advised they may come after you next." The recon leader explained.

The top of the slope came into sight, and 2nd platoon, joined by a few other platoons of Bravo Company. The angle of slope mean that the forces above couldn't get a clear shot without exposing themselves at the top of the feature, making the major problem climbing up. The brunette marine reached the top and was greeted by a familiar yet terrifying sight: The flat hexagonal shape of a Type 92 turret across a few rice paddies.

James made a quick 180 as the tank to his front fired at the marines. The shell flew mere feet overhead and continued down the mountain, exploding somewhere below them. Accompanying NLA infantry positioned inside buildings provided more effective fire. Slinger, a few soldiers down, brought his Zeus to bear, but the intensity of the fire was keeping it from being employed

"Sledgehammer, we've come under heavy fire by NLA Type 92s, can you assist?" 2nd Platoon's CO asked over the radio.

"Negative Bravo 2, we're gonna have to go around, slopes are too severe and rocky. You're on your own." One of the tanks radioed.

"Understood Sledgehammer, we'll sit tight and do what we can but you'd better hurry." The Lieutenant radioed.

The Type 92s kept the Osean troops against the white-brown dirt with their machine guns now. James felt a few chunks of the mix slap against his helmet, telling him just how close the shots were landing. As things would have it, the unit's Forward Air Controller had taken cover next to Jose and James. He wasn't really seen as an Air Force puke anymore, despite his different uniform (TRUs instead of MARPAT), but a part of the unit. The man was on his stomach, the radio's telephone pressed against the side of his face.

"Cherry Picker, we have three Type 92s to our front, got anything for us?" he radioed over the shooting.

"Tell em we need a bomber!" Jose said half-jokingly.

Paul Hart ignored em and continued to talk with the person on the radio, trying to get an idea of where he was in relation to the other guy, what their options were, etc, etc. Meanwhile James, Jose, and the others just had to keep their traps shut and their movements little. There was a noticeable feel of relief when the guy on the radio smiled.

"Roger that Cherry Picker, I see you. Tell Titan Flight this one's gonna be close!"

James followed the FAC's eyes and saw an F/A-18 gliding by far away, but another close round but his head back down. He guessed it was "Cherry Picker". He pressed his back against the ground even more as the Osean Air Force NCO, pulled the pin on an IR strobe attached to his gear. James looked back out towards the sky for the Super Hornet.

"Roger that Cherry Picker, do you see our strobe?" Hart asked.

James peeked up as the fire temporarily went away from them. The closest Type 92 was waiting for a clear shot at something. The other was letting off bursts at the edge of the slope, apparently deeming the infantry so small for its main gun. The third was motionless too, and in fact it seemed like the firing was coming mostly from infantry in the nearby houses. James took the short lack of shooting to his advantage as he dug out his canteen and chugged about half of it after he was out of sight again.

This fighting was unlike anything prior. It topped his first day when he'd gone ashore. It topped the blitzkrieg through Gin-Fao-Ma. The armored thrust across the plains preceding these hills and mountains, where they'd played bait for the M11s as they got to test themselves against the NLA's armored corps. It made him feel…

…

…

Alive…

It was hard to explain, but it was only now that he was feeling and grasping just what war could be, how fast and brutal it could play out. And as a testament to that, his ears picked up the deep screech of jet engines.

James looked up again to see the first A-10 glide down towards the trio of vehicles, its nose letting off smoke. As the low-grumbly roar sounded the tanks bled sparks and turned into small fireballs. His wingman was right behind him, copying the first Warthog's move on the buildings in the outskirts of the town. The two let off flares as they went back up towards the sky where they could be called upon again if needed.

"Okay Bravo 2, Cherry Picker says we're clear." Hart reported.

The Lieutenant ordered parts the platoon over the top of the slope after the deployment of smoke while the others provided cover. A collective hiss sounded a couple dozen feet to the front. It was still far from the edge of town, but it was the best they could get. Half of the remains of 2nd platoon went up and over after the artificial cover set in a little and a few immediate threats dispersed. James and his friends stood up and began running towards the town, thermal on, weapons ready and eyes scanning.

The few NLA forces with a clear view of the marines wasted no time in sending rounds their way as they pressed through the barren rice paddies. James emptied the rest of his magazine at the dug-in targets, ducking behind part of a crumbled building to the right of one of the Type 92s. No sooner had he than a heavy machine gun somewhere inside the town opened up. He looked back and saw other marines scattering out of the way. James peeked up a little and tried to spot the MG nest, but a few rounds from another direction kept his head back down. He spotted Slinger running towards him, head down to avoid getting a round to the face. He saw a few spurts of mud around the AT gunner, and then a puff near his ribs. The man fell forward onto the ground.

James's instincts kicked in as he looked around for the squad's LMG handler. He spotted the olive-skinned marine across the opening behind another destroyed house.

"Jose, covering fire!" James shouted over the radio.

The man looked around for him. He saw his friend and nodded before he pointed his SSW around the corner, firing in bursts. Hart also joined in with his 416. The brunette left his ACR and drew his Five-Seven, running towards Slinger. He grabbed the man by the vest and dragged him out of the sight of the MG before getting him towards the squad. The fire spit up mud around him until he was in relative safety.

"Roth!" He shouted, looking around. Slinger was still wide-eyed.

"Hey Slinger, you still with me?" He asked. The guy gave a jerking nod.

"My fucking side is on fire man!" He gasped in panic.

Roth arrived and took over while James grabbed his rifle. The NLA machine gun was still chattering away, keeping the marines pinned down. The weapon fired in a sweeping pattern, keeping up fire to keep the Oseans behind cover.

"Bravo 2-1 this is Bravo 2-3. Hang on we're flanking that bastard." The sergeant leading 3rd squad radioed.

"Roger that 2-3." Garvin radioed calmly.

James heard the whoosh of a Zeus and dared to peak around the corner. He caught sight of the rocket as it exploded in a window.

"2-1 advance!" The sergeant ordered.

The squad, with the exception of Roth and Slinger (guarded by Hart) pressed down the alleyway towards the street. With the recon team in the most immediate danger, the tanks had been ordered to make a push towards the town square. The marines on foot would have the honor of flushing out buildings in the settlement. Izzy and James advanced towards a single building, positioning themselves on either side of the door. The redhead nodded and swung around, giving the door momentum with his right combat boot. James went in after his friend moved away, ACR leveled and fully loaded.

The brunette looked left and right around the room, apparently some kind of small shop. He noticed a pair of NLA corpse in a makeshift MG nest, built using a few overturned shelves He moved to make sure the two were really dead while Izzy went to the rear of the room. As he came up he heard footfalls behind him. The marine turned around to see an NLA soldier rushing at him, knife in his hand. Corporal Bradford raised his weapon to stop the man, but the ACR was quickly knocked from his hands. The Osean reached up with one hand for the Linese soldier's knife-wielding hand as they fell back, while the other reached for his neck.

The Linese trooper pressed his arm down at the enemy, trying to get the knife in James's neck. James got his hand around his neck and closed it, but it had little effect. He tightened his grip on the man's wrist, trying to get him to release the blade. The fear of death was working its way into the marine's system. He heaved up and tightened his grip on the adversary's neck. The man's small eyes bulged out a little as his air supply was slowly being compromised. James gritted his teeth and gave it all he had. The NLA soldier began to falter before he finally dropped the knife. James took the chance and pushed him off. He pinned the man down and drew his own blade.

The NLA soldier took the blow with his left forearm and cried out in pain as it went clear through. James gave another push and lodged what was sticking out into his opponent's forehead. The Linese man stopped moving, and James let out a long breath. He began pulling the knife from its kill as Izzy came back, and joined him to clear the next house.


	26. Chapter 25: Know Thy Enemy

_Chp. 25: Know Thy Enemy_

_May 1, 2014_

_The town of Hikura, The Shimoji Republics_

Misaki rested her chin on Eric's shoulder, trying to enjoy the last few days they would enjoy together, at least for a while. They were at their usual spot, the private table of her aunt's café, when they wanted to be alone.

"It's not fair; he's going too far this time." Misaki said.

"Misaki, what choice do we have? It'll be easier on both of us, and I don't want him dragging you into a little beef. I'm just gonna have to man up and do what he says." Eric said.

"I was involved in this from the beginning Eric! I've managed to keep him at bay a long time, I can keep it up." She replied. He sighed.

"I know, but I'm not gonna make you do that. Besides you were never this involved, not at the level he was using you as some kind of fucking leverage." The Osean said, uttering the last sentence with a scowl.

He looked at her and softened his expression, reaching out and taking one of her hands in his. The blonde ran his fingers over his girlfriend's. She adjusted, moving into his lap and pulling him into close embrace. They simply sat there, nuzzling one another for what felt like decades. Eventually Eric lowered his head a little and put his lips to hers. She let him part them and squeezed him a little. She felt her emotions on the verge of pouring out as her eyes tried to keep away tears as hard as they could.

Eric pulled away after a few minutes and smiled, resting his forehead against hers. They sat in silence a few minutes until she couldn't hold back her want to know anymore.

"Then help me understand why you're choosing this path because it's for my sake." Misaki said.

A few tears went down her face, but not because he was choosing the Navy over her. She had come to terms with that well before today, and she knew it wasn't because she wasn't important to him. He had often gone above and beyond to make sure she was happy and safe. She knew he had a very deep obligation to do it because of his morals, because he was raised to put others first. She couldn't understand how he could succumb to her father's demands like this.

"Okay, I understand. I didn't explain myself well enough. I'm sorry Beautiful." He said softly. He took her head in his hands.

"Listen to me very carefully Misaki. I love you, very much. You're incredibly important to me and I can't imagine what it would be like if I'd never met you. I wanna spend day after day with you, but I have no choice. I have to leave for now, get him off of my back. Then, when I'm a pilot, and I'll be castrated before I give up that dream, you and I will both be adults, and we won't have to worry about him." The Osean went on. Misaki stared at him a moment, then dried her tears, nodding. She then grabbed the bottom of her tank top with both hands and looked down, shaking her head

"I still don't like it, not one bit at all…"

Eric felt his heart sink a little as he tried to think of something to say, but she wasn't finished.

"But…"

She took in a few deep breaths to try and recompose herself. Eric wrapped his arms around her again and waited patiently. She wept a little more, before finally calming and putting her lips close to his ear.

"…But…I'll at least give my understanding, and I'll still love you." She whispered…

_Modern Day (November 22, 2024)..._

Eric had long lost the want to sleep. Now he lay in his bunk, passing away time by thinking about Misaki. As he sat up a little there was a knock on the door. Eric let out a long breath and eased himself onto the floor before stretching. He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed for the door's handle. The man behind the door was Newport. They exchanged greeting before Eric let him in and sat down.

"Hey Saber, you might be interested in this." Joker said, holding out a small manila folder. The blonde rubbed his eyes and looked at the manila folder.

"What is it sir?" He asked, slowly taking the object.

"One thing we've been keeping tabs on is the NLAF's better pilots. Kinda helps us understand who's crucial and who's not, and if claims are real. Morale stuff. Anyways seems this guy is the one that shot you down on the tenth." He explained.

Eric started to open the folder before he looked at the intel officer again.

"Yes, it's not classified. You think I'd give you something you weren't supposed to see." Newport answered knowingly. Eric nodded and opened the folder.

"Apparently he's pretty good, made a name for himself after shooting down some of our Raptors." The brunette officer went on.

Eric looked at the picture. It wasn't of high quality, but he could make out the man that was its subject. His official title was "Captain Han Dao-Chong", but he'd earned the nickname "Sword" among Allied pilots. There weren't many details about him other than observations about his tactics and behaviors as a pilot. He flew a J-11 Flanker with the NLAF's 51st Fighter Squadron, and was known for having an exceptionally aggressive and decisive style. It was estimated he had around 15 kills at this point.

Eric looked at the man's photo again. He had chiseled features and very short head of black hair. His expression seemed steely, but he almost looked like an actor.

"I'm surprised this file even exists." Eric commented. He looked at it a little more before handing the file over to Newport.

"Like I said, we do it to understand who's crucial…" The Lieutenant Commander replied. He stood up straight to leave.

"…And I thought you'd like to know in case you wanted revenge." He added with a wry smile.

"For myself, or DJ, sir?" Eric asked. The man hunched his shoulders.

"That's up to you Saber."

The man walked out of sight, leaving Eric to contemplate his squad mate's words. Of course, he also had another thing to contemplate, specifically the very short letter he'd recently received from Misaki. The pilot opened his personal safe and extracted the envelope to read it yet again.

Dear Eric,

I wouldn't want anyone else to have that honor.

Love,

Misaki Bradford

Eric found it more heartwarming than surprising at her signature, and relieving that all that waiting after he'd sent his letter had paid off. Of course he didn't know the first thing about weddings. He'd only been to one when he was six, getting to play the role of ring-bearer. Ah well, he had things to take care of before that happened. The pilot turned towards his personal locker to retrieve a flight suit and red turtleneck shirt…

Han marched purposefully down the hall towards the door, helmet under his right arm. The other seven pilots in the flight were right there with him. He would be flying with Captain Zhou Peng, the squadron's Operations Officer. It was another simple patrol over what territory their country's military was clinging to in South Cholina. What had once been a glorious crusade, where they had a fighting chance after establishing control, was now an almost animalistic struggle to maintain what they could. Even when the air war was relatively young, and the coalition was wining several engagements, Han and his comrades were still in high spirits.

The squadron had lost several experienced pilots, and even some of the newer pilots that had shown promise were gone. Han, along with many of the other veterans, often found themselves watching over officers who lacked any combat experience outside of a few brief practices in their advanced training. Today the short-haired Flanker pilot felt lucky to have a man he could trust supporting him. At this point he was more concerned with not being killed than the war's outcome, comfortably certain the coalition would not dare to go further than its goal of liberating South Cholina. None of them cared about the enemy's ideaology or whether they were the true "good guys", they would defend themselves and nothing more.

As they left the building behind and walked out onto the flight line, Han let his mind give attention to the potential opposition. There was no thinking they would have a quiet patrol, it was just a matter of who'd they be going up against. The Emmerians, equipped with their Rafales and F/A-18Fs? The South Linese and their outdated F-16s? Oseans and their F-22s or F-21s? It was almost a bit fun to guess, Han thought. Maybe…Maybe even he'd encounter his opponent from a handful of days ago.

The pilot's name was Eric Bradford; apparently he was the son of a rather decorated Osean pilot who'd perished during the 2010 war between Osea and Yuktobania. He was one of the more successful pilots in the coalition, and had been one of the few pilots to take down a J-20. Even though you could easily learn about a person thanks to technology by 2024, the Linese man did not know much outside of the blonde's combat records during this war. He'd also gotten a photo of the man when he'd graduated from the Osean Naval Academy. There was nothing that stood out about him though, just another light-haired Caucasian man really.

Han had developed an odd interest in the man, especially after their encounter. He was no novice, as his kill count and performance in combat had shown. Maybe someday they could lock horns on equal terms. For now though he could only dream. The pilot checked his J-11 and its load of weapons before he climbed up the ladder and settled in the ejection seat, his crew scrambling to get the fighter ready. As he did his part in the cockpit the ground crew made sure his load of AA-11s and AA-12s were ready. He looked over at Peng, who nodded and gave him the "thumbs up" sign Western pilots did so often. Han smiled a bit and returned it.

The J-11s, their engines now running, were given some space to maneuver. One-by-one the fighters taxied to the runway, their pilots in mixed spirits. Han watched as Serpent 10, piloted by one of the newest pilots in the squadron, turned onto the runway. He had a single kill marking, made by destroying a RCAF F-16. Despite his distrust of the younger pilots, Han always hoped that at least a few of them would survive and gain needed experience, especially with the new tactics they were using.

The Linese pilot halted as two other Flankers went into afterburner for takeoff. He moved his jet into position and looked at the tower as Peng moved into position.

"Tower, this is Serpent 3 and Serpent 6, requesting weather conditions." He radioed. The pilot adjusted his oxygen mask a little.

"Serpent 3, Serpent 6, this is Tower, we've been tracking some clouds over your patrol area, but we cannot find any signs of severe weather. The wind is at 2 knots, blowing in a south-southwesterly direction." One of the controllers radioed.

"Roger that, requesting clearance for takeoff." Han replied.

"You are cleared, best of luck." The controller radioed.

Han grunted and slid the throttles forward. The two J-11s rolled down the stretch of concrete in perfect synchronicity until they reached takeoff speed. Han watched his home drop below him for an instant as he led Captain Peng up into the clouds to join the rest of the flight.

"Serpent 3 airborne."

"Serpent 6 airborne."…

Eric made sure his straps were adjusted as the two F-21s were carried to the flight deck by the forward elevator on the port side of the Excalibur. By now he had grown used to his new F-21 and returned to the daily life of an Osean naval fighter pilot. The only real difference was that the NLAF threat over South Cholina was waning. The combined forces of Osea, Ustio, Emmeria, and South Cholina itself had managed to establish air supremacy in several areas, with other spaces closer to the border steadily marching towards the same status.

Today was another raid aimed at the North Linese ground forces, more specifically their support. Today's target was a bridge that the NLA had kept heavily guarded and despite being hit twice, was still available to their forces as a crossing. The strike force was made up of six F-35s, accompanied by six F-21s and four E/A-18Gs equipped with HARMs and jamming pods. The force would be supported from afar by E-12s and SQ-46s. Intel suggested there was only a remote possibility of NLAF activity, and that the main force would most likely be threatened more by mobile AA guns or man-portable SAMs (MANPADS) than NLAF fighters. To Eric it was a bit disappointing, but then again he wasn't the one who decided what threats they would face.

As was often the case, Mark was his wingman for the flight. He was directed towards the #1 catapult. As Eddie had suggested earlier, the sky was a dull gray, and the weather over the target was supposed to have more clouds, maybe even snow on the ground. Eric loved snow, and it was a shame he couldn't enjoy it.

The catapult officer beckoned him forward past the JBD. Eric extended the wings of his Grumman fighter and the catapult crew came forward to hook him up. He looked over at Mark's F-21 as it was turning its nose towards the bow of the carrier, showing his eleven kill markings to the blonde. Eric looked forward as he was given the signal to move his control surfaces. The pilot complied immediately, doing the routines before launch like they were innate functions. As the F-21s sitting on the waist catapults were sent on their way, Eric's own catapult officer was almost done making sure he was clear.

Eric adjusted himself one last time in his seat before the catapult officer signaled him it was all clear. The Osean wasted no time in raising his right hand in salute and pressing his head back. The catapult fired and he shook a little before being squeezed by the g-forces. The Thunderhawk of VF-138 left the deck and began its journey out of the launch pattern after a few miles.

Eric circled around until Mark joined him and the formation organized itself. The escorting Grumman machines took up a perch above and in front of the Lockheed Martin and Boeing products. The egress over the coast was quiet and uneventful, not even a single SAM launch. Eric almost felt like he wasn't fighting a war anymore, or at least the war fighter pilots fought. The F-35 pilots still had plenty to hit with JDAMs, Paveways, Mavericks, or whatever the situation warranted.

The Osean Navy flight kept its course, getting occasional updates from its E-12. The three pairs of Thunderhawks put some more distance between each twosome and set their radars to single-target track for their AIM-120s. Eric took lead while Mark sat half a mile away at his eight o'clock. He checked on his friend then heard his ECM beep. The pilot looked forward and saw they'd been picked up by radars on the ground. He selected his countermeasures and kept an ear tuned. The beeping soon increased as he was given clear indication the North Linese military was looking to fire. As a precaution he abandoned his centerline tank.

"Devil Lead this is Ronin Lead, we're picking up radars, think you could, you know, do your job?" Eddie quipped.

"You want it done so bad Ronin you should come over here and we can trade places." The lead EW aircraft's pilot radioed.

Eric's ECM changed tone as he received indication a missile had been fired at him.

"Okay Tex, break formation. We can join back up later." He radioed.

Eric hauled his fighter to the right and dumped off chaff. The ECM kept up its frantic tone as he maneuvered to confuse the threat and get out of its sight. He looked around for the weapon itself, spotting it as it came at him from the front. He made a violent dive towards the ground, feeling the G-forces doing their work on him. He let off more chaff and forced blood to stay in its place. His face contorted under the mask and visor until the ECM quieted and he went into level flight again. The other pilots were making their own calls as more SAMs got airborne. Another came towards the blonde Osean, and he very willingly forced himself to bear another period of hard maneuvering. He got a much clearer view of the weapon as it flashed by and went after a cloud of chaff. The E/A-18s worked to give the Linese missile batteries less of a target from what Eric could hear. His ECM's tone once again changed and he went level again. Despite the SA-series weapons trying to down the incoming Oseans, the bomb-toting F-35s pressed towards the day's objective. Eric saw a pair of VFA-206 birds diving down in afterburner.

"Ronin Lead, this is Talon Lead, we have reached IP. Descending to 7000 feet." One of the Lightning II pilots spoke up.

"Roger that Talon, good hunting." Fast Eddie radioed.

Eric looked down at his radar again as Mark slid back into position. Still nothing for them, what a surprise. The Growlers had picked up SAM launchers and were going in for the kill. He was about to resign things to another heavily eventless CAP, when a voice from the E-12 gave him a bit of interesting news.

"Ronin Flight, this is Nimbus, we've spotted some contacts on radar. Looks like a foursome of J-10s responding to the flight."

"Lucky us." Chris remarked.

Eric glanced down at his radar and looked around. Only four…it made him a bit uneasy. The NLAF pilots weren't suicidal. Stubborn as all hell yes, but in no way to the point of throwing away their aircraft for whatever nationalistic reason. Nonetheless he turned his plane to the north once given the vector, altitude, and distance of the four Dragons. His radar picked them up and began working out the details for his first AMRAAM. The four J-10s spread out into a wall formation, but the F-21s held their own pattern. Eric watched as he slid into range for his 120s and waited as the diamond made its way to the TD box.

"Two more J-10s, coming up from the clouds! Saber, break right!" Tex called.

Eric spat out an angered obscenity as he looked around and saw the two other NLAF fighters in his rearview mirrors, both having just burst from a cloud. He made the maneuver and left flares in his wake as one of the J-10s turned to engage him…

"Radar contacts verified, engage at will." Han radioed calmly.

The two J-11s acting as bait for the Ustian EF-2000s had led their pursuers right into the hands Serpents 3 and 6. Han, with Peng on his wing, descended after the two Typhoons that'd fallen into the ambush. His IRS-T bulge gave his port AA-11 a clear path.

"Archer, launch." The NLAF ace radioed.

His weapon went after the leading Typhoon as it ascended. The coalition fighter let out Flares and went into a loop to leave the Archer's field of view. Han instinctively followed, bringing his nose upwards. The Ustian was in full military power as he tried to escape, prompting Han closer to afterburner. His adversary rolled inverted and out of the climb with surprising agility.

"No amateur." Han said with a satisfied grin.

The J-11 rolled inverted and dove towards the ground. He spotted the Ustian fighter as it left its dive and spun so it was right side up. He pulled the same maneuver and went for missile lock. He fired the second AA-11 and silently ordered it to find its target. The Typhoon left more flares in its wake and tightened his left turn, trying to get his nose pointed at the Captain. Han frowned and chose his cannon, unwilling to trust his AA-12s at this range. He increased the throttles a bit and moved for a favorable position.

The Ustian, as he'd expected (and slightly hoped), countered the move by staying out of Han's forward area. The EF-2000 flew directly overhead from his 10 o' clock and the Linese pilot rolled right. He looked out the top of his canopy and spotted the enemy fighter once again. It was fleeing towards some mountains in full afterburner. Han gave chase, increasing his speed as well. As he closed some distance his own ECM system detected an unfriendly radar tracking him. He looked around and spotted another UAF Typhoon as it fired two MBDA Meteors at the J-11 from above and behind.

Han let the first Typhoon go and broke hard left, throwing out flares to buy some time. The first Meteor bought the bait but the second kept its course a little longer. However Han left its field of vision and the weapon sailed past towards the ground. He looked in his rearview mirrors as the UAF aircraft settled into a chasing position. Han took in another breath of cool, dry oxygen and made a hard left, ascending as he tried to shake the pursuer. The EF-2000 pilot didn't waiver for a second, staying on Han's tail even through the violent maneuver. Han bit his lower lip with a hint of annoyance as he tried to think of a way out of this.

As he did so, several white flashes fell short of his plane. He made another maneuver, subjecting his body to further stress. The Typhoon followed him adamantly as they ascended. Han went into afterburner to gain airspeed and hopefully distance. His ECM let off varying tones as the Ustian had a moment of apparent indecisiveness on which weapon to use. He used that to his advantage as he maneuvered to the right. The move cost him distance but he slowed abruptly enough that he hoped to gain surprise.

Tracers from his opponent's cannon flashed by to his left as he slowed more and tried to place the enemy fighter's path in front of him. He plunged towards stall speed with a risky pace, hoping he would be able to recover and make his move worth it. He looked left and saw the Typhoon go by beside and below him before he brought the throttles forward again…

Eric watched the J-10 undershoot him giving his armed AIM-9 a heat source. He'd had enough of being chased, and was all too happy when the pilot failed to let off flares after he'd fired. With a "Fox 2" call he sent the Sidewinder on its journey into the enemy fighter's tail. The Osean let the Dragon fall to its grave while he looked and listened (to both his ECM and radio) for another one of the NLAF machines to grease.

"Spotlight, this Ronin 208, requesting threat vector." He spoke up.

"I've got one for you Saber, the other guy still on my ass." Mark drawled sarcastically.

"Roger that Tex, what's your position?" Eric asked as he looked around. He noticed three shapes to his left.

"Tex, you on one the tail of one of those guys?" he asked as he made a turned towards the trio.

"That's a roger."

"Okay, I see em, hold tight man." Eric assured.

He selected his M61 and aimed for the back of the chase. With an adjustment of the rudders and throttles he slid behind the J-10 after Mark. He fired a few rounds to the right of the NLAF fighter-bomber to get its attention. Another quick burst convinced the Linese pilot Mark wasn't worth chasing anymore. Eric kept on him even after he was gone, giving the cowboy of a fighter pilot more. The blonde put a few holes in his opponent's right wing. The Dragon maneuvered away from the stream of tracers and dove towards the snow-patched ground. The J-10 quickly made his dive very shallow, but kept on towards the ground. He kept close, enticed by the thought of a gun kill.

Eric saw tracers coming up as the Linese aviator lured him towards what appeared to be the JSFs' target. They must've missed a few of the Type 95s sitting on the ground he thought. The Osean weaved back and forth, up and down to make himself a harder target. They passed by the few mobile guns before once again ascending. Seeing that his ploy had failed, Eric's target tried to disengage and evade. Eric wouldn't let him though. With haste he gained lead on the ascending J-10, using his lower speed to his benefit, and sent a burst of cannon rounds perpendicular to the NLAF machine. it went directly through them and began to trail black smoke. The machine rolled inverted as it left its turn and glided towards the white ground. Eric kept his ascent as the F-35s organized themselves for their egress out of the area…

Han felt obligated to note in his after action report that The Coalition's air forces were becoming much more difficult to defeat. They had always been a challenge in a general sense, but the day's sortie had been one of the more prolonged engagements of his career. He had prior knowledge that their small territorial size made the Ustian military strive to be as elite as Yuktobania and Osea, but these pilots had been notably more fierce than in other fights over the two Cholinas. During their flight they'd lost two pilots. One was an inexperienced aviator who had been with the squadron less than two weeks, while the other was Lieutenant Zhao Pei-Fai, the squadron's political officer. Another part of their experienced core was dead he frowned.

At this point he began to contemplate his own life and its possible end. He had no wife or heirs to give inheritances to; he had not found much fortune in love. His parents had often suggested he stop directing all his attention to his career, but he wanted to make them proud, he wanted to show them that he could become great. After the war, if he survived, he would find a woman and win her. He even wondered if after this he should consider leaving the PLACAF, and seek a more peaceful life, and cleanse himself of his violent actions…

Eric's feet touched the rough surface of the deck. He looked forward at the soot stains around the M61.

"So what's that bring the kill count up to sir?" his crew chief asked. Eric did some quick math of his kill count.

"Twelve, I got two today." He commented. Willard nodded.

"It's gonna be a shame to wash off that soot." He added.

"Yeah, but you know the way the brass thinks." His superior replied. He patted the young deck crewman on the back and left the fighter in his care.

The debriefing was as routine as the first one they'd had at the start of the war. They had suffered no losses, only minor damage to a pair of F-35s. It was almost…insulting how little determined resistance they encountered now. Nonetheless they learned that in a few months if things were still going on they would be relieved, as was the SOP of carrier operations. The pilots of the day's flight were summarily dismissed to attend to other matters. Eric withdrew to his stateroom once again to dream about Misaki and the future that was hopefully lining up for them.


End file.
